


I'll make a path to the rainbow's end

by Bebrenx



Category: Clean Bandit (Band), Years & Years (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 16:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5011669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bebrenx/pseuds/Bebrenx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neil has done plenty of thorough research pre-tour to make sure their support act is just right. It has nothing to do with the fact the lead singer of the group that might be supporting them is bloody gorgeous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll make a path to the rainbow's end

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Canon-ish getting together fic. Unbeta’d, all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Title taken from Fleetwood Mac’s Seven Wonders.

Grace says he’s being a bit stalkery. Grace is wrong. Neil is just thorough – there’s a difference. He wants to make sure whoever they pick for the support act on tour is going to be just right – both musically and actually as people too. Which may sound a bit over the top, but he doesn’t want to be stuck around complete arseholes for a month. And he would like to actually enjoy their music if he’s going to have to hear it every night from backstage.

So this all forms a quite rational explanation for why he went to this one band’s single launch – he’d heard from one of their management team this group was being considered as high potential. He watched from up on the balcony, trying to make sure to look at the whole band and not just the captivating lead singer with the flirty smile. He doesn’t talk to anyone, because Neil is stealthy and quite good at lurking when he puts his mind to it, and just wants to see the band at their most natural.

None of this really explains why he spent a good hour flicking through said singer’s Instagram afterwards though, having tracked him down via Google (which is not stalking, everyone can Google these days), but at a push, he can tell Grace he was trying to glean a better glimpse into the singer’s personality. Which is sort of true.

Actually, it’s quite rich of Grace to call him a stalker since she has been very much an enabler if not an accomplice in said activity – it was her after all, who made a massive bowl of popcorn and sat down on Neil’s bed, poking at him until he got the singer (Olly’s) profile up so she could pore over it with him, once they’d settled on the support act. Neil pretends this is the first time he’s seen most of these pictures, as Grace pauses and squints at the screen on a close up of a selfie.

“He’s very cute,” she says approvingly. Neil nods, even though she’s not looking at him. “But now we’ve asked them to come on tour you can’t be weird and continue your stalking.”

Neil is offended. “I’m offended that you’re trivialising my research and debasing it by calling it stalking,” he complains, grabbing his pillow so he can give her a gentle thwack over the head, mussing up what he knows is an artfully dishevelled bun. She squawks and doesn’t bother arming herself with a pillow, just shoving her hand into his hair in retaliation.

“Stage one of stalking is denial, the sooner you admit it to yourself, the sooner we can take steps to work through it,” she says through giggles as he bats at her ineffectually a few more times.

“You’re actually going to make this into a thing and give me a complex, when all I wanted to do was make sure we had a good support act who we’d get on with while touring,” he says huffily.

“I’m just saying, you’re going to be pretty embarrassed if you continue your Instagram research and accidentally like a picture from two years ago,” Grace warns, though she’s still giggling in between words. “And my worry is you’ll be getting on with our support act slightly too well.”

“I’m going to put my stalking ability to good use and start researching what other half-decent cellists are out there, who might be more supportive of my work,” he says threateningly, and swans off, taking his laptop with him, because they were halfway through an episode of Pretty Little Liars and now Grace won’t get to see the end of it. He smiles smugly to himself, tuning out Grace’s laughter from behind him, because he’s going to have the last laugh when she realises he’s the one with the computer, when he’s already locked himself away in a different room.

  
***

Meeting Years & Years for the first time officially is actually a bit awkward after all that, though Neil tries to cover it up with casual confidence, greeting everyone with a bright smile, making sure to shake each person’s hand and making prolonged eye contact on introductions so he seems extra earnest. Which he is, it’s just he might be upping his attempt at charm in an effort to distract from the fact he’s very worried I HAVE BEEN STALKING YOU ON INSTAGRAM AND POSSIBLY AT A SHOW OR TWO is lit up in neon on his forehead when he makes eye contact with Olly.

He’s even lovelier up close, with a sharp jaw line, very blue eyes and an infectious smile, possibly edging on flirtatious as he compliments Neil’s shirt. He does initially look slightly overwhelmed to be there, but everyone is really nice which Neil’s grateful for. He doesn’t want them scared off at the first possible opportunity.

After the first day when their schedules matched up, with the bands rehearsing one after another, everyone heads to the pub chattering away as if they’re all old friends. Neil can’t help sending Grace a triumphant look. As in, this couldn’t have gone better if Neil had meticulously researched it all beforehand to make sure the dynamic would be right.

He tries to get this all across in that one look and is about 90 per cent sure it’s mission accomplished with the withering eye roll he gets from Grace in return, before she does a quick check round the table to make sure nobody’s watching before looking pointedly at Olly and then back to Neil, raising her eyebrows.

That’s not an appropriate change in telepathic discussion, which Neil communicates with a vigorous shake of the head and dramatically furrowed brow. This expression is unfortunately caught by Olly, who has just snorted from across the table, and is now watching Neil, looking amused.

“Did she say something offensive – I think I tuned in at the wrong moment?” he asks, smiling widely, and Neil is very tempted to sigh out loud at that smile. Unfortunately, that’s probably not socially acceptable, so he mentally gathers himself, flicks Grace another unimpressed glance that also has a furtive touch of say nothing or you’ll never see me in the bath again and turns back to Olly.

“Grace can be intimidating and mean, so we were worried it’d be difficult to find a support act we all got on with.” He’s hoping Grace will understand that she has to take one for the team here and from the disgruntled “pffft” he hears from her direction, he’s fairly sure she has accepted that, but will be plotting revenge and soon.

“Luckily, everyone seems to be getting on really well so far, which is nice,” Neil adds and Olly’s smiling at Grace then, but in a conspiratorial way that gives Neil a flare of unwelcome jealousy.

“That’s totally understandable, people can be awful. I think bonding over alcohol is a tried and tested method that works pretty well though,” Olly taps his beer, and after Grace has nodded back at him with a pointed and somewhat gleeful “thank you” at his first comment, he focuses back on Neil.

“So did we have to go through a heavy vetting process with all Clean Bandit members participating then?” he leans in a little, like this is a top secret discussion, eyes lit up presumably at the prospect of gossip.

Neil determinedly does not look at Grace and curses the fact that despite his long legs, he can’t fucking reach her under the table to kick her in warning. Well, he possibly could, but with so many newish people sat around he daren’t risk it for fear of injuring a new tour mate.

“Yes, we all rated every song we could find of yours out of ten, watched all the live performances available on YouTube, sent a couple of scouts to shows and did a rifle through Instagram to find out what you were really like,” he ticks off on his fingers. Neil figures skirting very close to the truth is essentially the same as telling the truth, but hopefully this version will serve to slightly spare his blushes.

“Did you really?” Olly looks delighted and then he frowns. “That’s not fair, I’m basically the only one you can properly research on Instagram, so I had to count for everyone? I suppose it’s lucky I had Stewie on there for bonus cute points.”

“Stewie?” Neil asks, bemused.

“The giant grey cat that takes up the entirety of any photo he’s in? He’s our non-official mascot, and if we ever break up the custody battle between me and Mikey is gonna be a nightmare,” Olly looks very serious. Neil’s not sure how serious he actually is about this, but he schools his face into an understanding expression and nods anyway.

“But anyway, we passed the test?”

Neil steeples his fingers and rests his chin on top, looking at Olly speculatively. “You’re still under examination,” he announces warningly and Olly laughs.

“Did that sound a bit creepy? I think it did a bit,” Neil tilts his head to rethink that last sentence. “Anyway, I’m joking obviously. We all loved your music and you seem nice enough.”

“Nice enough?!” Olly parrots back, still laughing. “You’ll see, we’re the best band you’ll ever meet.”

It kind of sounds like a challenge.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he tips his bottle in Olly’s direction before taking a swig, a warm buzz in his stomach seeing Olly tracking the movement as he does.

***

They’ve all drunk far too much by the time the barmen kick them out – good-natured enough, but pretty keen to finish clearing up after a long night. Luke and Jack are staggering off towards the tube with Mikey, while Emre and Grace trail them, seemingly locked in a fierce discussion about choice of dog toys. Neil has no idea how the fuck they got onto that, but he’s too pissed to think about that, or the fact they seem to have lost several of their friends as the night wore on.

The one thing he is happy to focus on is that he’s currently got a warm and very handsy Olly pressing kisses along his jaw line.

“Is this a bad decision?” he’s asking in between brushing his lips up by Neil’s ear.

“Hmm?” Neil tries to tune into the conversation, but he’s a bit preoccupied with cupping Olly’s shoulder blades to pull him a bit closer, feeling them shift delicately under his touch.

“Like getting off before tour even starts? Is this bad protocol?” Olly sounds idly curious rather than genuinely concerned, and Neil seizes the moment to turn his head and capture Olly’s lips in a proper kiss.

Olly responds very enthusiastically at once, sighing into Neil’s mouth and slipping his tongue in. Neil likes that. He also likes that Olly’s got gentle but purposeful hands, which are currently sliding over his mesh jumper and up to his neck to help him direct the kiss.

When they pull back, Neil doesn’t let him get too far, resting their foreheads together and watching Olly’s eyes blink open slowly.

“Honestly, I couldn’t give a fuck if it’s bad protocol, I’m going to find it bloody difficult watching you from afar for a month,” Neil says quietly, the darkness surrounding them providing a security blanket that makes him feel a little braver about being honest.

Olly full on beams at that, glances down like Neil’s eye contact is a bit much, which it might be to be fair. Neil has heard he can be a bit intense – Grace has actually told him off for going rapidly into serial killer gaze sometimes, but Grace is mean and determined to give him as many complexes as she can.

“Do you wanna come back to mine?” Olly says suddenly in a rush, bouncing up slightly on his toes like he can’t stay still. “Mikey’s staying at his girlfriend’s tonight – if he makes it there in one piece and she takes pity on him,” he tacks on wryly.

“God, yeah,” Neil says, already leaning back in, wanting to get his mouth back on Olly.

Olly sinks into it, smiling a little, lets it continue for a moment or two, before he stops again.

Neil’s frowning, but Olly’s already reaching for his hand, “C’mon,” he says encouragingly starting off towards what Neil thinks is the bus stop.

“We can get the night bus from here, it’s like ten minutes,” Olly confirms that thought, zipping his jacket right up to the chin when they reach the corner, before leaning against the bus shelter.

He looks fucking adorable but also distractingly hot.

“Are you having second thoughts already?” his question is slightly muffled by his collar, but Neil can hear the undercurrent of vulnerability belying the light-heartedness of the joke.

Neil assumes he’s accidentally been doing the intense furrowed brow thing again, and instantly wants to reassure Olly that’s a positive thing without drawing attention to the fact it’s a slightly odd quirk of his.

“Just wondering if I’m going to be able to keep my hands to myself until we get to yours,” he says instead, enjoying watching Olly tilt his head down in an effort to conceal his smile.

“There’s nothing to stop you right now, bus isn’t coming for like fifteen minutes,” Olly says coyly, after glancing at the timetable and Neil has been brought up well after all – who’s he to turn down such a nice invitation?

Olly’s head has popped back out of his jacket, watching Neil approach, though his hands are still tucked into his pockets when Neil cups his face and drops a light kiss on his lips. “You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, before going back for a deeper one.

It’s nice how receptive Olly is, tilting his head back with just the slightest nudge of encouragement from Neil so he can nuzzle down his neck. Neil’s also kind of into the fact he hasn’t bothered to take his hands out of his pockets and is just letting Neil do most of the work.

He’s actually half-relieved when the bus arrives, as Neil has very little self control and was probably on the verge of getting a bit too hot and heavy considering they still have a journey to make in public.

They beep in with their Oyster cards and Olly leads him towards the back of the bus where there are plenty of seats free. They’re away from the few other people scattered around – a couple of girls who’ve probably been out clubbing half tangled up together near the front, a guy in a hoodie with his mouth lolling open as he snores and an older man paying them no mind, too preoccupied with a book.

Olly rests a hand high on Neil’s thigh when they’ve sat down, turning sideways so he’s facing Neil, his own legs tucked up on the seat. “Just to warn you, I think my room’s a tip, wasn’t expecting company,” he says, catching his bottom lip between his teeth nervously.

“Don’t think I’m gonna spend much time inspecting what’s on your floor to be honest,” Neil waggles his eyebrows, making Olly laugh again. Neil’s already seeing a pattern where anytime Olly laughs, he finds himself smiling back.

“Good. Also watch out for anything you might trip over. Wouldn’t want you injured before the exciting stuff gets underway,” Olly mimics Neil’s eyebrow motions, and looks suitably ridiculous but also quite sexy.

“I’ve had my share of sex injuries, I’m hardened to that now,” he says courageously, though realises his slightly poor choice of words as Olly laughs loudly, shaking his head in disbelief.

***

It turns out Mikey has indeed gone back to his girlfriend’s – or at least hopefully he has and isn’t wandering the streets of London somewhere. Either way it’s promisingly quiet when Olly unlocks the door, apart from the quiet miaow that greets them from somewhere to the left in the dark.

“Hiya Stewie,” Olly’s presumably petting the cat, since he’s disappeared somewhere to the left. “I’m just gonna check he’s got food and his water’s topped up, one sec. Can you get the light? Should be behind you on the right of the door.”

Neil fumbles around with the wall until he hits the switch and the room’s illuminated with harsh light. Olly has disappeared into what must be the kitchen, with a giant grey cat slinking behind him. It is quite cute to be fair. Just not as cute as Olly.

A minute later Olly reemerges, unzipping his jacket so he’s left in a white t shirt. “Okay, Stewie’s sorted, now where were we?”

“You were meant to be giving me more attention,” Neil reminds him helpfully, holding his hands out, waiting for Olly to approach him. He takes Neil’s hands and lifts them, tugging him in and interlacing their fingers.

“That I can do,” he smiles slowly, before resting Neil’s hands on his lower back. Usually, Neil would be taking that encouragement and running with it, but he’s content at the moment to watch Olly and let him decide what speed this progresses at.

Olly’s slides his hands up Neil’s arms, before wrapping them round his neck. “Mmm, you’re being really well-behaved,” he says quietly, rocking up to kiss Neil firmly.

It’s hot, so hot, but Olly’s controlled as he dips his tongue into Neil’s mouth, and Neil feels a slow burn all over. His fingertips are tingling from where they’re still resting on Olly’s back, itching to touch, and he grips Olly’s shirt between his fingers, soft fabric giving him a tiny bit of distraction.

Olly steps back but only to grab Neil by the shirt, walking him backwards until his knees hit the sofa. “Sit,” Olly says quietly, eyes focused on Neil as he does.

Olly’s on him immediately, legs bracketing his hips, thumbs resting on Neil’s jaw as he teases him into another deep kiss, before dragging one hand into Neil’s hair, catching it slightly.

Neil hisses instantly, head snapping back, and Olly’s very blue eyes watch intently. “Oh,” he breathes, hesitates before doing it once more, purposefully this time. Neil keeps eye contact, but can’t help the moan that slips out.

“Well, that’s interesting,” Olly says slowly, as if weighing up this new discovery.

Neil licks his lips, enjoying the warm weight in his lap, Olly shifting as he moves a hand back down to rest on the part of Neil’s chest exposed by his shirt.

“You know what else would be interesting? You back here kissing me,” Neil frowns at Olly still just watching him, until he cracks at that, giggling again.

“You have some terrible lines,” he says, and Neil would point out it seems to have worked well enough, since he’s got a lapful of Olly, who has now settled back into kissing him again, but he’s obviously a little preoccupied.

They’re long, drawn-out kisses that leave him breathless and wanting to touch every inch of Olly he can get his hands on.

Olly’s grinding down properly now, and Neil goes to press a hand on his back to get him closer, but Olly’s surprisingly perceptive, catching both his hands again and pinning them up by Neil’s head.

“Might need to work on your patience,” he says, though his voice is a little shakier now, less controlled.

“Might need to work on how demanding you are,” Neil says grumpily, in between kisses.

“I’m sure we can work out an agreement,” Olly says, smirking, and Neil doesn’t think he’s losing out in the current arrangement, considering Olly really is such a pretty sight to watch on top of him.

“If the agreement involves less clothes and more touching, I’m very much on board,” Neil glances pointedly to where Olly’s still holding his hands.

“We’ll get to that,” Olly smiles properly at him then, like Neil’s doing something sweet instead of being huffy and impatient about not getting off quick enough.

Olly goes back to rocking over Neil’s lap, which is simultaneously the best and worst experience of Neil’s life. The pressure is almost too good, but still just not enough, though the sight of Olly rolling his hips is going to be etched onto his eyelids for weeks after this, he can tell. He’s torn between wanting Olly’s lips on him constantly, and wanting to pause to watch him move, tilting his head back, the long line of his throat exposed, in between their increasingly frantic kisses.

“Okay, you can touch me now,” Olly suddenly breathes out on a long exhale. It’s like he’s been getting desperate to get to Neil’s skin too – Olly unclasps their hands, with one going straight under Neil’s shirt feeling along his abs, and the other settling back on the nape of his neck.

Neil flounders for a second – there are too many places he wants to touch all at once, so he almost feels silly by first gently running a hand down Olly’s delicate spine over his thin t-shirt, but Olly shivers a little and presses closer.

He settles his hands at the front of Olly’s shirt and gives a meaningful pull to get his attention. The shirt is off in a couple of seconds – Olly’s perceptive, he likes that – and then Neil’s got all this lovely bare skin to explore, but then Olly’s leaning back, shaking his head.

“Wanna see you first,” he says, which obviously Neil can do and he shuffles forward to get rid of the extra layers.

“Wow, maybe I should start playing the violin if this is what you get to work with,” Olly murmurs, eyes transfixed on Neil’s chest.

“You’re bloody gorgeous as is,” he argues, running fingers up Olly’s sides curiously, enjoying seeing him squirm a little.

“Ticklish,” he explains and Neil files that away for later contemplation.

“C’mon then you, thought we were getting somewhere,” Neil teases, and Olly rolls his eyes, but he gives Neil a quick kiss and gets up quickly to strip off the rest of his clothes.

Neil is very much on board with where this is going and peels off his own jeans and boxer briefs before Olly settles back on top of him.

“Better?” Olly asks sarcastically, and Neil opens his mouth for another unhelpful retort, but Olly’s got a finger over it immediately, shushing him effectively.

Neil is always willing to play dirty, so gives the finger a little bite, which has Olly’s eyelids fluttering.

“If you have some lube I don’t think I’ll have anything else to complain about at all this evening,” Neil says when Olly moves his hand to rest along Neil’s collarbone instead.

“I’m not gonna tell you off for that, because that was actually a useful suggestion, which is a first for tonight,” Olly says, hopping off and grinning at Neil’s offended reaction. He holds up a hand. “Two seconds.”

He’s speedy enough that Neil doesn’t have time to complain about being alone again, stroking himself idly a few times while he waits, letting his legs sprawl indulgently.

“Now this is why I’d keep you around,” Olly says breathily when he comes back in and sees Neil spread out on the sofa. He sounds a little strangled. Neil’s not going to pretend he isn’t smug about that.

“I’m glad I have some use,” he says, voice already lower now he’s turned on.

Olly’s back in Neil’s lap speedily after that and he slicks them both up deftly. Neil’s not at all surprised that Olly’s very effective with his hands. He groans at a twist on the upstroke, and then again when Olly sinks his teeth into Neil’s neck.

“You can feel free to help out anytime soon,” he teases, and Neil snaps to attention at that, because he is nothing if not very generous (in all aspects of life, though Grace may disagree on some things, but that’s why she stays out of his thoughts in the bedroom).

He gets a hand between them, knocking Olly’s out the way to take over. He’s already nice and wet from the lube, and it’s not difficult to get a good rhythm going. Neil’s apparently doing a decent enough job that he’s managed to distract Olly from attempting to reciprocate at the same time, too busy writhing around in his lap.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasps, head folding onto Neil’s shoulder, presumably to watch Neil’s hand working. Neil rewards a lovely whine by thumbing over the head teasingly, before picking up speed again. From this position he can’t quite reach around to put his other hand to good use, so he decides to investigate if Olly’s sensitive anywhere else within reach. This pays off almost immediately as he snaps forward when Neil drags a thumb along his nipple, the nail catching it deliberately.

Olly turns his head on a moan, getting out, “You’re finding my weak spots far too easily,” before Neil does it again and he nips at Neil’s neck again to suppress his groan.

He doesn’t muffle the drawn-out “Jesus, Neil,” just before he comes, so Neil’s going to have that as a soundtrack on replay in his mind for the next month at least, though he’s sad not to have a visual to match it to, with Olly’s head still tucked in by Neil’s neck, breath hot and jagged.

“I would compliment you on great handjob skills, but you’re a violinist so it would’ve been very disappointing if you’d been anything below excellent,” Olly murmurs afterwards, still catching his breath, before reaching down to finish Neil off.

Neil would very much like to point out that does not make anything a given and actually, he has worked very hard on both his violin and hand job skills to make sure both are up to par. But, Olly’s jerking him off so sweetly, at just the right pressure that he’s hard-pressed to put together any sentences than aren’t combinations of expletives and variations of Olly’s name.

He’s getting close and Olly must notice, since he sits back further, presumably to watch the expressions flitter across Neil’s face. He can’t help but watch back – Olly’s beautiful, still all flushed, eyes bright but hot and heavy as they stare at him, and he tries to keep the eye contact until he comes. He manages, Olly biting his lip as he watches back, and Neil’s orgasm feels all the more intense when it does hit.

Olly curls up in his lap immediately afterwards, totally ignoring the stickiness between them, tilting his head up, eyes closed like a kitten basking in the sun. “You being distractingly adorable is probably going to be a problem, I’m calling it now,” Neil murmurs, stroking a finger along Olly’s jaw line, before encouraging his chin up a little more and kissing him tenderly.

Olly hums happily, and lets Neil stroke along the sharp rise of his cheekbone, before following it with a kiss.

“You staying?” Olly asks quietly after a moment, lips brushing against Neil’s as he speaks.

“If I’m allowed,” Neil replies, watching Olly carefully.

“Obviously, I need to get a test run on how good these arms are for cuddling before tour starts,” he smiles cheekily, giving Neil’s biceps a quick squeeze. “And if I’ll need to find a different person for snuggling if you’re not up to the job.”

It’s very bad that Olly is already apparently aware that Neil is both competitive and a little possessive, since he looks utterly delighted when Neil hauls him up with a huff, letting Olly wrap his legs around his back, though one ends up draped unhelpfully down the back of Neil’s leg.

“Bedroom?” he asks, and Olly gestures to the door they passed on the way in, so Neil backtracks with a rather wriggly, but still warm, lovely and notably naked Olly in his arms, and works his way back to Olly’s room.

He flops Olly gently onto the bed, and is about to follow suit, when Olly leaps up suddenly. “I’m getting a flannel first, I have learnt my lesson from past mistakes,” he warns, looking hilariously alarmed, before darting out the room again.

When they’ve been wiped up to Olly’s satisfaction, Neil’s finally allowed into bed, and moves onto his side, watching Olly’s frame in the darkness as it slides in next to him.

“How do you like to be cuddled then?” Neil asks him, leaning in so their noses brush slightly. Olly grins, and shrugs, “surely, if you’re up to the challenge you should be able to assess my needs”.

Neil growls a little, and slides a hand round to rest on Olly’s lower back. “I would’ve thought you’d be a keen spooner, but instead I’ve got you ogling me in the dark, which is very disconcerting.”

Olly laughs at that, but still shimmies in a little closer, trying to press himself as near to Neil as possible. Neil’s not complaining. “Just need to keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t try and make off with my cat in the night or something. Which is why I’m also going to do this...” he says, slotting a leg in between Neil’s.

“Your cat is very cute, but I’m not that invested. Though if you wanted to make sure I couldn’t escape, I think lying on top of me would be your best approach,” Neil offers helpfully.

“I think that might be too distracting for you,” Olly’s voice has gone suggestive and Neil would very much like to hear that voice on the end of a phone when he’s alone at night. He might raise this with Olly at a later time, if this happens to be a reoccurring thing.

“You’re probably right,” Neil lets out a long-suffering sigh that has Olly giggling again, before he turns onto his back.

“Hey,” Olly sounds very put-out, and Neil does not find it adorable in the slightest.

“You can wrap round me more effectively like this,” Neil points out, spreading out a little in encouragement. Olly grumbles, sounding unimpressed, but dutifully tangles up with Neil not a moment later.

Neil’s tempted to say this is a very good cuddling position he has selected. He thinks he probably should.

“I think I’ve proven my credentials as a top-class cuddler, so you won’t need to be looking elsewhere on tour.”

He can feel Olly smile, from where his head’s resting on his chest. “I’ll give you your final grade tomorrow, got to see if your stamina is up to scratch or if you lose interest too soon.”

Neil would be tempted to argue further, because lack of interest on his part is certainly not going to be the issue here, but he’s actually very tired now and is finding it a lot easier to let sleep pull at his heavy eyelids. He drifts a hand up and along Olly’s side once more just to make sure he’s still there, before he can properly nod off.

***

When Neil meets Grace for a slightly belated lunch (that had nothing to do with the fact he was still at Olly’s until gone 1.30pm when they had originally planned to meet at 1pm), she’s waiting for him, fingers wrapped around a large coffee and sunglasses perched on top of her head, looking unimpressed.

“Am I going to have start telling you rehearsals start an hour earlier than they actually do to make sure you’re on time now?” she greets him with.

Neil slides into the seat opposite, and says, “Hello, nice to see you too. In my defence, I did give you ample warning I was running late and also I’m totally professional, as you know”.

Grace has already ordered him a drink, which is actually very nice of her, so he smiles obnoxiously over his own cup as he takes a sip, to say thank you.

“Professional enough that you’ve already shagged our support act before we’ve even started the tour?” Grace rests her chin on one hand and smiles back knowingly, looking interested to see how Neil will respond to that.

He pauses.

“It’s good for inter-band relations, I think we’ll all feel much closer as a result actually.”

She snorts. “That sounds like it’s approaching territory close to an orgy, which as interesting as that sounds, would not go down well with Jack.”  
Neil frowns at her. “I don’t want anyone else involved.”

Grace looks triumphant, though Neil’s not entirely sure why. “That sounds rather possessive and maybe a bit invested, isn’t that interesting since you’ve just hooked up once? Is this going to be a regular thing then?”

He shrugs, fiddling with the corner of the menu. “We haven’t really discussed it.”

The morning had been just as great as the night before – there’s this constant bubbling chemistry between him and Olly so it feels like even when they plonked down on the sofa to watch a random assortment of cartoons after waking up at an ungodly time, they were flirting constantly and almost too aware of each other the entire time. He’d felt his heart leap whenever their hands brushed, like a thirteen-year-old on his first date.

They’d had a very domestic morning actually. Olly had very kindly shared his shower – with him in it – which was a nice bonus and meant Neil got an extra handjob in the shower too. They’d had breakfast and Neil had started to get ready to go and meet Grace after they got stuck watching some weirdly addictive Australian cooking competition for two hours.

But then Olly had given him a look from underneath his eyelashes, still curled up under a blanket on the sofa, which then very quickly ended up with Olly half off the sofa and Neil on his knees, giving him what he thought was a suitably dedicated thank-you-for-breakfast-and-your-delightful-company-blowjob.

And since Olly is such a nice boy, he’d insisted on kissing Neil for quite a while after that, so Neil had maybe lost track of time a bit. Which is why he met Grace looking a bit more dishevelled than usual and is possibly wearing odd socks, one of which must be Olly’s.

He has Olly’s number now, which is progress, but they hadn’t really specified if and when it was happening again.

Grace is just staring at him.

“What?” he asks, frowning back.

They’re interrupted by a waitress, and after randomly picking the first thing he sees off the menu, Neil returns to his previous task of looking at Grace expectantly (and slightly irritably).

“I was joking a bit, but this is a bad case of feelings, isn’t it Neil?”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing him again in an outside of tour capacity,” he replies cagily, and she gives him a softer smile.

“Babe.”

“Don’t worry, it may have been left without any specific arrangements, but I have his number,” he waves his phone for emphasis.

“Excellent, put that charm to good use, but please no dick pictures, or at least none with your face in,” she tilts her head.

Neil opens his mouth to respond indignantly, but there is a history and a very good reason for Grace to have to warn him, so he shuts it again in quiet defeat.

“When are we next rehearsing?” he very subtly changes the subject. Grace looks at him for a long second.

“Wednesday. Really subtle change of subject there. Are you going to text him before then?”

“Maybe? If I feel like it,” he shrugs nonchalantly and Grace just rolls her eyes.

“Okay, fine, but we’re going to discuss this again. You can’t turn up late for lunch, looking like you’ve been going at it all morning and then go all faux coy on me, I’m not buying that bullshit.”

“Isn’t it so nice to see a bit of late September sunshine?” he says, peering out the window, where the sun is meekly showcasing a couple of rays from behind a giant cloud.

“Oh my god,” Grace groans, and flicks a sugar packet across the table at him.

***

Neil reverts to his teenage self in the prolonged agony he spends dithering over whether to text Olly or not. They went out on Friday, so he technically last saw him on Saturday morning (well afternoon by the time he left), and really, he should probably just wait until Wednesday because it’s like four days.

Which isn’t long at all. But, now he’s established some basis of mutual interest, he really wants to pursue it. He just doesn’t want to be too forward.

In the end he leaves it, and tries not to think anything of it that there was radio silence from Olly’s end too.

He’s nervous come Wednesday, and trying to cover it up by being a bit louder and possibly a little brash the whole journey over. This is particularly unfortunate for Luke, who’s sharing a cab with him. Neil reckons he’s on Luke’s last nerve, and would be this close to getting clocked round the head with a drum stick if he had one to hand.

Once they’ve all arrived, Grace keeps trying to corner him, probably to try and make him actually outline a plan of action, which is just no. So he flits between everyone to avoid this, fiddling with lots of things he shouldn’t and chattering away about fuck knows what.

Years & Years are just finishing up. Olly sounds great from what he can hear, and he’s a bit disappointed they missed the rest of it. Though, at least this way he’s unlikely to be sick of the songs by the time tour starts next week, like he actually is a bit with some of their own stuff.

Everyone says hello cheerfully, and Emre watches Neil for a second longer than he’s comfortable with – as if sussing him out. It puts him a little on edge, wondering what Olly might’ve said and what that totally unreadable look on Emre’s face might mean.

“Hey.”

He’s been too busy engaged in the awkward, totally unintentional stare-off with Emre that Neil nearly misses Olly rocking back on his heels in front of him, smiling brightly but slightly shyly at him.

He’s just as ridiculously gorgeous as Neil remembered.

Olly bites his lip and quick as a flash Neil’s got a crystal clear image of him doing just that when he glanced up to watch Olly’s reaction while giving him head on Saturday.

Fucking hell.

“Hi, how’s it going?” he tucks his hands in his back pockets, aiming for cool, but concerned it sounded like a botched attempt at a Joey Tribbiani “how you doin’?”

“Yeah, good. Getting a bit nervous now tour’s next week, but I think we’re getting to that point where we just want to get out there you know? Think we might’ve hit a plateau in terms of rehearsing time and improvements made,” he laughs, shrugging his shoulders a little self-deprecatingly.

“I know, it’s coming up so fast now. You sounded sick though – that last one will be awesome live,” he waves his hand about a little vaguely pretending he’s grasping for the name, even though it’s right at the front of his mind. “Take Shelter is it?”

Olly visibly brightens. “Yeah, that’s right. Thanks, it’s had a good reaction the last few times we’ve performed it, so hopefully.”

The half-small talk trails off, and Olly’s left sort of looking at him expectantly.

Neil’s very aware Mikey and Emre are hovering at the door and glancing back at them intermittently, presumably waiting for Olly. Olly hasn’t looked back at them yet.

He’s also very aware that he’s got about two minutes max before Luke launches a drum stick at his head now he has one to hand, to get him to hurry the fuck up and start rehearsing. Luke has quite decent aim, so it’s not a risk he’s willing to take. Even for the very lovely Olly.

“I’m probably going to have to head over soon,” he tilts his head to where the rest of the band is setting up and Olly flushes a little and rubs his arm.

“Course, sorry for keeping you. See you Sunday – think that’s the next time we’re both rehearsing here before tour starts?”

He’s taken one step away already and Neil is slightly panicked at not seeing Olly again until Sunday and having no indication that Friday night’s events could see a repeat.

“Wait, are you up to much later?”

He hasn’t even picked a day or two in the future for a slight cooling off period, just diving right in. Well, he’s said it now, so not much to be done except offer Olly a winning smile and hope for the best.

“Nothing really, I think we were going to get a pizza and maybe watch a film, but nothing’s set in stone.” Olly looks back. “Why?”

“Was just going to see if you wanted to do something – with me?”

Neil is usually considerably smoother than this. It’s not going badly per se, but he’s definitely not being as effectively forward as he usually is.

Olly smiles though and nods. “Sure, do you want to drop me a text when you’re done? Don’t want to make everyone wait much longer,” he grimaces, finally looking over to Emre and Mikey who are miming glancing at non-existent watches exaggeratedly and sighing really loudly.

“Yeah, sounds good. I’ll try and think of something actually fun for us to do.”

Olly starts to walk backwards, still facing Neil. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” he says, eyes flicking down and back up almost imperceptibly. Well, then. That’s a good sign.

“NEIL!” Luke yells, and Neil flinches, moment ruined.

“I’m coming,” he calls back, probably sounding a bit whiny but with good reason, before throwing a “See you later, Olly” back over his shoulder and jogging to catch up with the rest of the band.

It’s only when Grace sidles up to him, with a, “Weeeell?” that he permits himself a small victorious smile.

“I’m seeing him later,” he says quietly and she nudges his shoulder, with a whispered “Ooooh”.

He rolls his eyes, but still can’t stop smiling for the rest of rehearsal.

***

Olly meets him at a hole-in-the wall Lebanese that Neil only found recently. He hasn’t actually brought anyone there since he stumbled across it with a mate from uni, but it’s relatively close to rehearsal and Olly had texted back to say he loved Lebanese food with a smiley emoji and two exclamation marks, so it seemed a decent enough bet. And he remembered really enjoying the food last time round.

Neil arrives first and hovers for a few minutes, unsure whether to go in and get a table or if that’ll tempt fate and he’ll get abandoned, looking all too obviously like the guy who had been stood up. But then, it might be weirder lurking outside.

He should probably stop over thinking this.

“Neil? Hey,” interrupts his rambling internal monologue, and Olly’s there with a tentative hand on his elbow, checking it’s him.

“Sorry, it’s kinda dark and I saw tall, strapping dark stranger and thought promising but wasn’t definite,” he grins. “So had to check the face, but just as fit as I remembered.”

Neil is nearly a bit thrown by the sudden flirtatiousness after Olly being initially hard to read earlier, but he’s not going to question it.

“Glad I lived up to expectation,” he smiles in return, noting Olly’s swapped shirts and he feels warm at the thought it might be because of him. “Shall we?”

He holds the door open for Olly, who looks a little bashful at the gesture, but pleased all the same.

They’re immediately greeted by a gregarious waiter, who shows them to a table towards the side of the fairly bustling room, different coloured lanterns hanging from the ceiling and casting shards of bright blues and reds across the table.

As the waiter dashes off to get them a jug of water, Olly tilts down his menu to look at Neil. “It’s so nice in here. As soon as you suggested Lebanese I was pretty excited.”

His genuine enthusiasm gives Neil an extra boost of confidence. “You mean you weren’t excited when I asked you out initially?”

Olly doesn’t glance away, instead he rests his chin on his hand and raises an eyebrow. “Asked me out? So this is a date?”

Neil doesn’t deny it, but isn’t quite sure how Olly feels about progressing whatever this is when they’ve had one alcohol-tinged hook up so far. “I wanted to take you out for dinner,” he says in response, watching Olly smile in amusement.

“Let me just find the most expensive thing in the menu,” he jokes, running a finger down the page and promptly gets distracted. “I think I’ve had this aubergine dip before, it’s delicious.”

He’s tapping at something halfway down that Neil can’t quite match up on his corresponding menu, but he thinks he knows what Olly’s talking about.

“Shall we get some stuff to share? They do some really nice falafel here too, although my friend had this vegetarian stew thing which he said was awesome.”

“Sharing’s good, and I love falafel,” Olly says easily, and Neil’s struck by how he’d very much like to do this on the regular. There’s a comfortableness and simple intimacy between them that already seems to be in place – something he wouldn’t say he had with every single one of his good friends.

***

The food is great, better than Neil had remembered, and made more memorable still with Olly’s delight over most of the dishes, pushing stuff across the table for Neil to try and then going further, holding out a torn piece of pita with a curious looking dip with pickle on it. Neil duly bites into it, before thinking it might’ve been more sensible to take it off him.

He pauses mid-bite and glances up at Olly apologetically, but he’s watching him with a heavy-lidded gaze. Neil swallows and licks his lips absent-mindedly.

“Probably should’ve just taken that off you,” he grins shamelessly, now he knows Olly definitely didn’t mind.

“I preferred your method,” Olly smiles back coyly before taking a sip of his beer.

“Are you meeting up with Mikey and Emre after this?” Neil asks a little clumsily, very much on a one-track thought process now.

“Trying to get rid of me already?” Olly remarks dryly. “Nah, I didn’t know what we’d be doing so didn’t want to keep them waiting. Said I’d text if my plans changed.”

The comment is left painfully open-ended, meaning Neil has to bite the bullet to get a conclusive answer.

“Did you want to come and hang at mine afterwards then? I’m only a few stops away on the Northern line.”

“Sure,” Olly smiles happily, eyes shining a little in the light as he leans forward to dip another piece of pita into a different dip. “But only if you keep eating out of my hand.”

He’s giving Neil a fairly challenging look which has him surprisingly turned on pretty quickly. He’s not one to turn down a very hot boy offering to feed him though, so he takes the proffered bread again, keeping his eyes on Olly as his lips brush Olly’s hand on purpose.

“Maybe we should get the bill soon,” Olly murmurs quietly, staring back.

***

Their journey back to Neil’s is a lot less restrained than the first time they got together – the end carriage of the tube is empty, and Neil has no qualms about beckoning Olly across for a quick kiss, which turns into two and then three. The hard armrest is an uncomfortable barrier between them, but Olly’s half-hanging across it to get closer and Neil contemplates tugging him into his lap properly, since he’s effectively mostly in it already.

Olly’s little gasp as Neil bites down on his lip distracts him enough that he focuses on drawing out more of those breathy noises, cupping Olly’s jawline as he kisses him slower and dirtier.

He pulls back at each stop – not particularly bothered about people getting on, though nobody does – but to try and keep an eye on where they’re at, so they don’t miss his stop.

Olly makes a delightful huffy sound each time he does, frowning until he goes back to kissing him, until they do reach the right place, and Neil presses one last kiss before he stands up and holds out a hand.

“This is us,” he nods towards the doors, and Olly takes a moment, looking slightly dazed, before he takes Neil’s hand and lets him lead them off the tube.

It’s about a ten minute walk to Neil’s but it takes them about twice as long, stopping what’s meant to be occasionally for kisses that turn into lengthy make outs.

They reach his flat flushed and wound up, and Neil is grateful he manages to get the door unlocked on the first try. He gets a hand on Olly’s jacket to pull him in behind him, when Olly pauses. “Nobody else is in are they?” he asks uncertainly.

“Just you and me,” Neil reaches around to push the door shut and stick the latch on, before using the new position to cage Olly in with his arms pressed up on the frame around him.

“Good, just wanted to check how loud I’m allowed to be,” Olly glances up from under his eyelashes and Neil feels electric just from the one look.

“Please feel free to make as much noise as you like,” he murmurs leaning in to close the gap as Olly tilts his head up, ready for the kiss.

“Oh, I will,” Olly whispers back when they separate and Neil takes a brief moment to bless his excellent research skills for finding Years & Years to be their support act, and more importantly, finding Olly.

It’s a bit of a blur to the bedroom from there – they stumble a little, still not bothering to separate for longer than absolutely necessary to strip off, hands scrabbling at extraneous bits of clothing and giggling when they both trip over one pair of jeans, not looking down long enough to check whose they were.

They’ve barely settled on Neil’s bed before Olly’s shimmying down, pausing to say, “Think it’s time I returned the favour,” with an impish smirk, before proceeding to give Neil a bloody fantastic blowjob.

He can’t tell if it’s over far too soon, or just feels like it is, because Olly’s so thorough and enthusiastic – seemingly covering every inch, if not with his blessedly hot, wet mouth, then with his soft hand. Either way, he has to take a moment to rub his eyes, in an attempt to dissipate the flashes he’s seeing in the immediate aftermath of his orgasm.

“That’s not fair,” he mutters a little throatier than intended. Olly shuffles back up the bed so their faces are aligned. He looked smug, but now looks a little puzzled. “You didn’t give me time to prepare myself,” Neil explains sulkily, and Olly’s face opens up into a delighted laugh.

“Couldn’t help myself,” he shrugs, still looking endearingly pleased with himself. “You’re a bit much without clothes on – well with clothes on too actually, but especially without,” he looks down Neil’s naked figure, still sprawled half over the duvet.

“In fact, it’s still too much, please can you be a little more considerate,” Olly adds, clearly warming to the theme, tugging at the corner of the duvet nearest to him in an effort to get enough to throw across Neil. He half succeeds – the material flopping over one leg, but still leaves his dick decidedly uncovered.

“If it results in getting spontaneous blowjobs from you, I’m going to just walk around naked all the time,” Neil smiles widely, reaching up to rest his hands behind his head, aware he looks horribly self-satisfied.

“Oh my god,” Olly groans, but his eyes keep drifting down across Neil. “Let me just get a picture before the novelty wears off and everyone becomes desensitised to your admittedly very nice body.”

He’s leaning towards the side of the bed, pretending to reach for his phone – at least Neil hopes he’s pretending – and Neil lunges across to tackle him back onto the bed.

Olly immediately goes lax underneath him, looking wonderfully soft against the bedspread. He’s smiling still but it’s more intimate, and his eyelashes are fluttering lazily, the curls across his forehead scattered slightly haphazardly. Neil feels like he’s just gone into slow motion, eyes tracking Olly’s throat as he swallows, the stretch of pale skin, and the rest of him, long, slim and unblemished aside from a small scratch on one of his knees.

“Stewie,” Olly said, disrupting his thoughts as Neil traced a finger delicately across his knee, and somewhat disconcertingly seemingly reading them too.

Neil nods in acknowledgement, before looking back at Olly again, still braced over him. “You really are incredibly gorgeous, you know,” he watches Olly’s cheeks flush rosy, utterly fascinated by the quick change in colour.

“I think it’s a bit unfair you say very intense things when you’re very up close so they seem even more intense,” Olly says, evading the compliment, but looking smiley nonetheless as he reaches hands up to cover Neil’s eyes.

“I think it’s a bit unfair you still haven’t come yet, but I’m intending to right that wrong now,” Neil returns smoothly.

He sits back to give his arms a slight rest, licks his palm and reaches down to run a hand along Olly’s cock.

“Oh,” Olly sighs, sinking back even further into the pillow, hands twisting at the sheets. Neil is cataloguing every little reaction, trying to commit everything to memory.

He slides a leg up the bed and Neil’s suddenly struck with a more pressing urge. He trails a hand back, skating his fingers up suggestively, just tracing across the delicate skin. Olly’s leg flops to the side as he lets out a whimper. “Neil,” comes out pleadingly.

“Can I?” Neil glances up, hoping his eagerness isn’t colouring his voice too much.

“God, yeah,” is the breathy response, and Neil’s quick to reach across for the lube in his bedside table.

“Gonna get you nice and wet,” he murmurs, working quickly to coat a couple of fingers.

“Fuck, come on,” Olly beckons, eyes open but heavy-lidded as he watches Neil reach his hand down.

Olly immediately spreads his legs further, pushing one back up to give Neil better access. It’s a turn on how yielding he is, and so responsive. Neil’s enjoying watching him squirm, the muscles in his stomach visibly clenching as Neil teasingly strokes just his fingertip across Olly’s hole.

“Don’t tease,” Olly sounds torn between what he’s saying and wanting to be pushed a little harder, the torturously good feeling drawn out a bit longer.

Neil compromises by going slow – slower than he’d usually go – starting off with one finger, and pausing when Olly starts to edge on the side of too frantic.

The blush that had been tinging Olly’s cheeks is now a steady flush stretching across his chest and he can’t stay still, one hand clutching Neil’s spare arm as he strokes across Olly’s stomach tenderly.

“You’re being so good, baby,” Neil can’t help murmuring encouragingly. “Haven’t even begged for another finger, but you want it don’t you?”

“Oh, god,” Olly grits out, blinking up at Neil. “Please.”

“Alright, alright,” he murmurs, sliding two fingers back in easily while talking, and it’s unexpected enough that Olly lets out a moan.

“Come on, little one, I want to hear you,” the endearment slips out easily enough, but he’s briefly worried Olly might take it the wrong way.

He needn’t have worried apparently, as Olly seems to shiver involuntarily at the words, groaning louder now. Neil ups the pace a little and goes back to jerking Olly off with his free hand.

“’s too much,” Olly lets out on a breath, reaching up to pull Neil in by the back of his neck. He goes easily, capturing Olly’s bitten red lips in a kiss, swallowing down the delightful moan he lets out. He pulls back a little, nosing at the sharp line of Olly’s jaw, before drawing back further still and catching Olly’s gaze on him, still hot and heavy.

He watches as Olly moves the hand he was resting on the nape of Neil’s neck up to grip Neil’s hair, eyes watching him unwaveringly.

“Baby,” Neil groans, unable to stop his eyes slipping closed for a moment, knowing his voice has got rough again just following Olly’s movements. “Don’t distract me when I’m trying to get you loud.”

Olly smiles at that, and his next moan when Neil crooks his fingers just slightly is louder still – obviously trying to get Neil more worked up. He’s succeeding.

He doesn’t hold out much longer though, eyes fluttering as he tries to keep eye contact with Neil, teeth catching on his bottom lip, beads of sweat gathering by his temples as he arches back on the bed. Everything about him is beautiful, Neil thinks, there’s nothing he doesn’t feel utterly entranced by.

Olly’s hands are tight in the sheets when he comes, almost like he likes feeling a little restrained, which is something Neil would like to revisit at another opportunity.

Neil’s also slightly mesmerised by the way Olly’s body looks like it goes boneless almost immediately afterwards, the leg he had propped up slipping down by Neil’s side, hands still holding the sheets but lax now. Neil withdraws his hand slowly, and can’t resist giving Olly’s arse a little tap after he does so, enjoying watching Olly’s mouth quirk up in a half-smile as a result.

He runs one hand up Olly’s leg, feeling the light dusting of hair and then smooth, smooth skin, running his thumb back and forth across his thigh and then up along his hipbone.

“Gonna wipe us up, then we’re cuddling,” Neil announces, tapping Olly’s stomach, remembering Olly’s insistence on cleaning up last time round.

“I’m getting the whole five star treatment tonight, huh?” Olly grins lazily, watching Neil with a painfully soft look in his eyes.

“No, that would involve rimming, possibly a massage and a bath, but there’s still time,” Neil calls over his shoulder as he heads into the hall, wishing he had stayed to watch Olly’s expression.

When he comes back Olly has folded down the duvet, and is perched on the edge of the bed, with his legs crossed. He looks young all of a sudden and Neil wonders if he’s imagining that air of fragility Olly seems to have surrounding him at times.

He shelves the thought, when Olly turns to him with a shy, private smile that has his stomach flipping.

“C’mon then, I want to get to the cuddling portion of this evening’s activity. That’s really the only reason I agreed to dinner,” he announces, stretching his arms above his head with an air of forced nonchalance.

Neil rolls his eyes, but he thinks Olly can tell he’s extra careful as he swipes the flannel over him, making sure not to miss anything. “At least this is official confirmation I’m not getting demoted from your cuddling companion on tour,” he contemplates dryly.

“You’re safe there, for the moment,” Olly smiles, waiting for Neil to put the flannel to one side and flip the main light off, before wrapping his arms around his neck to pull him back into a kiss.

It’s quite possible he’s spent more time kissing Olly in the two times they’ve got together than he has some of his actual proper flings. Neil’s not sure he wants to dwell on what that might mean.

“You’ve got a very lovely mouth,” he murmurs instead, because he’d much rather focus on the tempting pull of Olly’s lush mouth, the addictive heat.

“You’ve got a very lovely everything,” Olly says, arms still holding Neil to him tightly, ducking his head down so Neil can’t quite see his full expression, just the shadows his eyelashes cast on his cheeks and the curve of his cheek giving away the smile.

“If you keep up with compliments like that, I won’t even look for possible cuddling competitors,” Neil says quietly, wrapping Olly up in a loose embrace.

“Excuse me, I’m meant to be the one judging, when did I start getting marked?” Olly’s head pops up again, eyebrows raised, with a mock offended look.

“Got to keep you on your toes.” Neil shrugs, but he can’t resist dipping down to catch Olly’s pouty bottom lip, sucking on it gently before Olly quickly turns it into another fierce kiss, and another and another.

They’re both warm all over by the time they finally ease it into occasional brushes of their lips against one another – but neither seem inclined to move from where they’re intertwined, sharing Neil’s pillow even though he’s got a double bed.

“Are you busy first thing?” Olly asks him, one hand trailing up and along Neil’s shoulder, fingers stroking back and forth.

“Nope, you?”

“No, I’m gonna take you for breakfast then, since you paid tonight,” Olly decides, and Neil quite likes that he’s not been asked – it’s been decided that they’re going to hang out again tomorrow. So many of his indecisive moments in life could be solved if he just had Olly to tell him how things are going to unfold.

“That’s the kind of thing I’ll look forward to waking up to,” he says contentedly, rubbing his knuckles affectionately along Olly’s hipbone.

They’re both sleepy he can tell, voices hushed and drowsy, but he still lets out a surprised bark of laughter when Olly adds quietly: “It’s just ‘cause I’m aiming for the full five star experience at some point afterwards.”

Neil’s definitely intending to make good on that at some point.

***

They hang out together a couple more times before the first show, and Neil feels pretty good about the fact Olly seems to be thinking about him enough to send him sporadic texts throughout the day now too. Sometimes he’s particularly blessed – like earlier this morning when it was chucking it down and Olly sent him a selfie showing down to his chest, t-shirt clearly soaked through, expression unhappy.

_forgot my umbrella :(_

Neil would feel bad, but he got a very nice picture out of Olly’s misfortune so.

_Shame you didn’t forget the shirt too._

He gets a side-eye emoji followed by the aubergine, which he’s going to assume is a come on.

It’s nice though, having someone he’s definitely interested in, enjoying these early stages of getting to know someone – the slightly shy yet intimate flirtation that comes from having fooled around but not yet that knowledgeable about each other. He’s had moments in the past when he’d been attracted to someone and started getting to know them, only to find their personality left a lot to be desired, but with Olly, it’s like each layer he unfolds is more interesting than the one before.

They haven’t really discussed what’s happening – they’ve hooked up three times now, but Neil would also like to point out they’ve hung out twice by themselves, when there’s been no sex of any kind, so he’d count those as sort of dates. Especially since that’s been in the space of four days – they’ve practically spent every day together since going out after rehearsal on Wednesday.

They’d gone to a park yesterday afternoon after getting coffee to go from a cafe. It had been surprisingly sunny for late September in London, so they went and sat by an impressive-looking oak tree, chatting away about everything from their respective childhoods to pet hates on the tube, unaware of the sky gradually darkening above them.

Neil hadn’t even realised it’d gone eight in the evening and they’d been there for hours until Olly got his phone out to check Twitter. He probably should be a little concerned that just spending time with Olly can make him oblivious to everything else, but since it’s such an exhilarating buzz to feel like this, he doesn’t really give it pause for thought.

He’s considering broaching the discussion of how Olly views what they’re doing, but he’s conscious they’ve only been hooking up for a week, and doesn’t want to come on too strong – especially when they haven’t even started touring yet. And he’s quite content with how things are going. So, he doesn’t – figuring they’ll have plenty of time to get to it over the next couple of months, especially if Olly sticks to his commitment as being his cuddling companion for the tour.

***

The final few days leading up to the first show in Newcastle go too quickly for Neil’s liking and everyone’s a little bit jittery and hyper – torn between being desperate to get started and feeling the nerves building.

He doesn’t see Olly much then, though the texts are still flitting back and forth, consistently flirty and borderline dirty at times, which may or may not be predominantly Neil’s doing. But he’s hoping to catch a bit of the Years & Years set on the first night, and if everything goes to plan, they should be seeing each other after the show, when everyone has made plans to head out to a bar.

They have a couple of days in between then and the second date so the consensus was an early celebration to christen the beginning of tour was a good idea.

It’s all a bit of a whirlwind, Neil barely gets time to sleep, let alone have a moment to think about anything other than the logistics of getting to the venue on time to check it out and have a final run through.

Olly texts him with a _good luck for later if i don’t see u! you’ll be great x_

He smiles to himself, still hoping he’ll catch Olly before the show, but it turns out everything is more frenetic than expected – and than anyone would’ve liked. Grace is running around in a panic because a zip broke on the top she was planning to wear, and he’s considering warning her that her boob may actually be about to make a break for freedom, but decides she looks like she’s got enough to worry about and everyone backstage has seen them enough times to be fazed anyway.

Meanwhile, Luke accidentally walked into a door when someone else was opening it and now he’s got a cluster of three people around him trying to stop his impressive nosebleed.

So, Neil’s fairly preoccupied in and among the chaos and only sees a flash of Olly before Years & Years go on – their eyes catching briefly. He calls out a hasty “good luck” teamed with a cheesy double thumbs up and Olly beams back at him, blowing a kiss. Neil mimes patting his back pocket for safe-keeping, and Olly gives him a smaller smile then, laced with promise.

Neil’s was already buzzing about kicking off their tour tonight, and the feeling has just shot up tenfold at the prospect of capping the night off with Olly.

***

It’s fucking awesome, for a first show it really couldn’t have gone better. The crowd is one of the most engaged he’s ever played for and it’s pretty humbling seeing so many people gathered in one place just to see them perform for the night.

Neil’s buzzing all the way to the bar – briefly catching Olly to give him a quick squeeze, but he’s soon swept up by numerous people wanting to hug him or slap him on the back, and he’s beginning to feel more like a striker that’s just scored the winner in the Champions League final than a violinist whose first night on tour has gone bloody well, but he laps it up all the same.

The bar’s already fairly packed when they get there, but management have rented out a whole section behind the main bar so there’s plenty of space for everyone to mingle or settle on sofas for chats if it feels too early for the dance floor. As far as Neil’s concerned it’s never too early for the dance floor, but now they’re there he wants to make a beeline for Olly.

He can see him talking to a blonde girl he doesn’t recognise – already with a beer in hand. The girl keeps leaning in to talk into Olly’s ear and Olly’s mouth is set in an unhappy line, so he keeps back for the time being, thinking it might be a bit intrusive to interrupt a presumably private conversation.

So, he settles for his second best option for the time being, which is getting the drinks in and hitting the dance floor with the nearest, most willing volunteers, which just happen to be a couple of sound techs Jay and Adrian, Grace and her friend Chloe.

He can’t help flicking sporadic glances across at Olly though, feeling slightly aggrieved not to meet eyes once, with Olly seemingly constantly engaged in serious conversations with various people every single time.

Grace grabs him by the hand and tugs him into her, to shout into his ear. “Cheer the fuck up, it’s the first night of tour!”

She squeezes him gently, eyes concerned despite the jovial tone and Neil makes a concerted effort to do just that, because he’ll be fucked if he ruins their first night of tour because the boy he likes isn’t paying him as much attention as he’d like.

He lets her pull him back into the circle where Adrian and Chloe have started grinding to Beyonce. It only takes a couple more songs to get him feeling keyed up again, singing along loudly with Grace, before thirst finally wins out and he gestures towards the bar.

“Vodka and soda?” he leans in to ask Grace, who gives him a thumbs up, and spares a look at Chloe and Adrian whose mouths are now otherwise occupied and leaves them to it. Jay’s holding a beer, which Neil has no idea where he got that from, but that’s one less drink he’ll need to carry.

Flagging down a bartender takes longer than expected as Neil’s partly distracted by trying to sort of subtly check where Olly is. It’s too crowded to see much other than writhing bodies and grinning faces, far enough into the night that alcohol has them freer of inhibitions but not late enough that people are running low on energy and feeling tired.

He turns back to wave over the bartender to order his and Grace’s drinks. The challenge after he’s paid is to then weave his way out, without crashing into one of the numerous people trying to swarm in and take the space he’s left at the bar.

He just manages to squeeze his way out of the crowd around the bar, with drinks still 90 per cent intact, which isn’t bad going, when he nearly drops his one entirely.

It’s Olly – he recognises him in a heartbeat now. The slight shoulders, flash of a nose piercing, and distinctive dancing. Except he’s not dancing with Neil and he’s not even dancing by himself. He’s up on some random guy, well Neil thinks he’s random – he’s not looking at the guy too hard, more preoccupied with Olly, fucking lovely Olly, who looks more than content with his body lined up with someone else’s.

Neil’s has tended to go all in when it comes to people he really likes, but he’s not rash and he knows he’s got no right to feel upset or annoyed when all he’d officially been doing with Olly was hooking up.

He still stands there for a long minute, trying to check what he’s seeing and if he’s got it wrong though. Olly’s pretty much riding the guy’s thigh that’s slotted in between his. Neil genuinely doesn’t think he’s ever felt this kind of burning nausea. It sits deep in his stomach and at the top of his throat at the same time, impossible to ignore.

He’s getting jostled, someone’s telling him to “get out of the way, you dick,” but he can’t physically make himself move, gripping the glasses tighter, the cold condensation numbing his hands.

He kind of wishes he could do the same to his mind right now, it’s whirring so fast.

It feels sort of inevitable but at the same time it’s still fucking horrible when the guy moves one hand to Olly’s chin tilting it up, the other sliding to his arse. Neil wants to squeeze his eyes shut, but he makes himself watch, just so he can be sure later on when he’s trying to convince himself he got it wrong.

Olly doesn’t even hesitate, which is maybe the worst bit. Neil isn’t even on his mind, and Olly’s wrapped his arms around the guy’s neck, probably just as enthusiastically as he has done to Neil in the past.

He just feels stupid for getting overly invested too soon, but at the same time rationally, he’s aware you can’t really control that sort of thing.

Not that Neil’s feeling all too rational right now. In fact he has to leave now before he does something silly or embarrasses himself, but he should probably tell someone first. Neil’s not actually sure he can even face Grace though, so he makes his way out, depositing the full drinks on a table by the wall. Only when he’s away from the heavy thud of the music, out in the bracing cold does he take his phone out to text her.

_Suddenly feeling knackered and am totally wimping out early. Sozzzz, text me if you’re awake and not dying tomorrow and we can get brunch x_

He only tacks on the last bit because he’s 99 per cent sure she’s going to be so pissed tonight there’s no chance of her making it out tomorrow morning. He has zero intention of going to brunch in his current state.

It’s early enough he could get the last tube home, but he thinks the bitterly cold air might clear his head a bit, so he starts to walk instead.

He replays most conversations he’s had with Olly that he can remember – there’s a surprising number he recollects with perfect clarity. He knows he can’t be angry – they’d never sat down and discussed it or what they were doing. He had stupidly assumed they were on the same page in progressing the thing into something legit without necessarily needing an official label, but now he wishes he’d asked early to have that stamp of confirmation, or at least so he could’ve tried to quell the feelings earlier, if he’d got it wrong. Though if he’s being totally honest, he’d felt pretty strongly about Olly the first time he laid eyes on him.

He’s had tons of casual flings before, he knows how they work. He’s also tried friends with benefits a couple of times, both of which were really good for a while until unreciprocated feelings led to the disintegration of both relationships. It just wasn’t Neil who had the strong bout of feelings on those occasions, so it hadn’t felt quite as raw as it does now.

He hadn’t felt so ready for a serious, settled-down relationship in a while – if ever, so maybe he’d been rushing ahead in his mind – thinking about coming back from a show and having Olly chilling in his flat already, having let himself in with a key, maybe sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea. He’d even thought ahead to introducing Olly to his family – just a fleeting thought, but coming to the conclusion his mum and sister especially would really like him.

Fuck.

It takes him an hour and a half to walk home, by which point his hands could quite conceivably be two ice blocks, but at least he feels number all over.

He pours a glass of water and is embarrassed to see his hands shaking a little, before taking a couple of paracetemol. He hasn’t drunk loads, but can feel a dull ache blooming, so figures that’s one pain he should try to nip in the bud while he has the chance.

He brushes his teeth and changes out of his clothes, which smell of smoke and booze, climbing into bed in his boxer briefs. He sticks his phone onto charge, almost on autopilot, and swigs back half the water, before he notices his screen is lit up.

He feels angry for the first time that night, when he sees it’s a text from Olly. If he’s off doing what he wants to do that’s fine, but why did he have to make sure Neil’s thinking about him constantly? He frowns down at his phone as if Olly can see him. It’s just not fair. He pauses, before curiosity gets the better and he types in his code, opening his phone to see the message.

_Just saw grace, she said u left early, is everything alright? Can u at least let me know u got in okay?_  
_also u missed them playing that G.R.L song we like :(_

Neil wants to yell in frustration or possibly punch his pillow. Both would be futile so he doesn’t do either, but he feels utterly useless at having no way to dilute his current state of mind.

He’s an adult now so he doesn’t ignore Olly – it’s really not Olly’s fault, he tries to remind himself.

_Just tired. In now, walked home – think I might now officially be a snowman._

He doesn’t add any exclamation or add a response to the second text, because he doesn’t feel up to imbuing any responses with much personality.

But he thinks that was nice enough – he answered Olly’s concerns and sort of tried to make a shit joke at the end. So, he sticks his phone back on the side, turns onto his side facing away, even though he always sleeps on his back, and forces himself to keep his eyes shut until he really does fall asleep, not checking his phone again. It takes a while.

When he wakes up, Neil feels surprisingly unblemished bar the sleep in his eyes he has to rub quite vigorously at to dislodge. That is until he remembers the night before and feels another bout of nausea totally unrelated to any alcohol he drunk the night before.

He clicks his phone to check the time, seeing it’s 10.30am and also that there are two messages – one from Olly and one from Grace.

He tries to skim over Olly’s, not quite ready to face the content, however innocuous it was likely to be, and opens Grace’s.

_Went to the gym this morning with Elizabeth and am so hungry, please tell me you’re awake to take me (and Jack, soz) for brunch since you bailed on me yesterday?_

The angry emoji she added on the end means business, so Neil sighs dramatically for effect, though there’s no one there to appreciate it but him and sucks up his duty as a good friend.

_You’re a disgusting person going to the gym after a night out, who does that? I will overlook this fault and meet you (and your tagalong) at The Breakfast Club near me at 11.30am._

Her reply is predictably abusive and ungrateful.

_You fucking hypocrite! Distinctly remember you waking me up to go to for a run in Paris after I’d spent half the night throwing up after clubbing. But good, you’re buying me pancakes._

He doesn’t dignify the allegations with a response, but goes to have a shower and mope a little to get it out his system before he meets Grace.

***

The Breakfast Club is busy, but way less busy than Neil was expecting, and since he managed to get there ten minutes early, by the time Grace and Jack arrive he’s nearly at the front of the queue.

“Well, well, well, you’re prompt for once,” she grins, leaning in to give him a warm hug, made extra satisfactory as she’s wearing a huge oversized jumper, so it’s like being wrapped up in a blanket. Which is exactly what Neil needs right now.

“I saw the error of my ways and wanted to make it up to you,” he said haughtily, though apparently he’s not quite as good at concealing emotions as he had previously thought – or Grace just knows him far too well – as she’s frowning at him immediately, so he tries to duck out of her scrutinising gaze by slinging an arm around Jack, with an overly enthusiastic “Alright, mate?”.

Jack snorts, shrugs him off with a “Get off me, you wanker” and a retaliatory hair ruffle, which on better days might make Neil yelp in annoyance. Today he weathers it, as potentially the only bit of affectionate touch he might be on the receiving end of today.

“What’s wrong?”

Usually Neil loves that Grace doesn’t bother pussyfooting around him and cuts right to the chase, but today he sort of wishes she hadn’t got straight to it, leaving him little time to pad out his account of yesterday so it feels a little less sharp in his mouth.

Luckily a waitress arrives to show them to a table, so he has a few minutes to gather his thoughts, while the bubbly girl with a shock of red hair, chatters away about the veggie options here being awesome. Though this only serves to put Olly right back at the centre of his mind – as if he ever left – as he wonders if he’s been here, and whether he’d like it.

Grace orders a couple of teas – ginger and lemon for Neil since she seems to think he needs looking after, which maybe he does, and green for her, while Jack umms and ahhs over whether to get a smoothie or coffee.

In the end, Grace orders for him with an eye roll, smiling brightly at the waitress, though she’s clearly impatient to get back to interrogating Neil, and whips around immediately once the girl has gone to register their order.

“Neil.”

“Did you see Olly yesterday?” he asks instead, guessing she couldn’t have seen what he saw if she’s totally oblivious.

“He came up to me like fifteen minutes after you left asking where you were, looking a little rumpled so I thought well obviously Neil’s got distracted having a good time, but then I was confused since you hadn’t left with him...” she rambles, looking increasingly bemused as her own account of events unravels a bit.

“I wasn’t the one who made him rumpled,” he says stiltedly, stung at the fact Olly had been so thoroughly kissed it was evident to everyone else.

“What?” Grace looks even more confused before it turns to shock. “But aren’t you guys...?” she reaches out a hand to squeeze his arm as her words trail off.

“Fucking?” Jack inputs helpfully.

Although Grace thwacks him round the arm for that, Neil’s thankful at the brief respite of light relief it gives him, since her quick show of sympathy had his eyes burning for a second.

“We got with each other like a lot in the last week, but never really discussed things,” he shrugs, still trying to put a bit of a front on – hoping something will keep his rapidly wilting pride intact.

Grace leans forward, resting her chin on one hand, watching him attentively.

“But he’s really into you, like it’s so blatant. I suppose if you never discussed anything, you’re both free to do what you want. I’m just surprised he wanted to get with anyone other than you, especially when you were there yesterday.”

He knows she’s trying to piece together what happened – Neil just wishes she wasn’t doing it in a painfully piecemeal approach directly in front of him.

“Maybe he wanted a bit of variety?” he suggests, though it sounds sulky even to him.

She gives him an unimpressed look.

“He hasn’t looked at anyone other than you since you were first in a room together. Did anything happen earlier on, that maybe made him think you were less interested?” she’s tentative with the question and Neil’s immediate instinct is to go on the defensive – he’s pretty certain he’s been bloody obvious with how he feels about Olly.

But he pauses to go over the lead up to the bar, desperate to find something that might suggest it wasn’t a lack of interest on Olly’s part that led to him kissing someone else.

“Maybe you turned him down earlier and he found someone else to take him up on the offer?” Jack suggests, eyebrows furrowed as if he too is seriously trying to assess the situation instead of being an unhelpful tosser.

Neil glares at him and is about to say something potentially a bit rude, when the waitress returns with their drinks. They order – Neil’s not even excited at the prospect of a breakfast burrito, that is how serious his current situation is – and then he goes back to pondering the lead up to yesterday’s... incident.

He’d managed to watch a bit of Years & Years’ set, caught Olly’s eye once or twice, both pulling stupid faces at each other, before Jack called him back to get his opinion on which of his two identical shirts Neil thought he should wear.

Their performance was awesome, the crowd ridiculously energetic and everything just went by too quickly. Then afterwards, when they’d piled off stage reluctantly, adrenaline still thrumming through their veins, Olly had bounded over to him excitedly.

“That was sick, you guys were so good! Didn’t the crowd sound amazing?”

Neil had slung an arm around him, unable to stop himself from smiling wildly – the show had gone better than he could’ve hoped for and now he has Olly, all flushed from exertion, a matching grin on his face, tucked up next to him.

“Incredible, couldn’t believe it.” They start meandering backstage where people are packing up. “Saw as much of you guys as I could, sounded great.”

Olly glances up at him, opens his mouth then hesitates. “Yeah, I thought I saw you and those arms at the side. It was very distracting.”

He shoots Neil a flirty smile and Neil’s very tempted to see how Olly would feel about them seeing if there’s an empty room they can find for a quick fumble before heading to the bar.

But hopefully there’d be time for that later – and enough that it’d be more satisfying than a fumble, so he just smirks back, nudging Olly’s cheek with his knuckle, as they head down the corridor.

They’d separated again to check in with their respective band mates and see who needed help packing up, before everyone had started trickling out to make the short walk to the bar.

Olly was walking with a guy Neil vaguely recognised, though he didn’t know what his job was and couldn’t remember his name. He’d hovered back, unsure whether to join them or not, with the decision made when an arm slid round his back, squeezing his side.

He very nearly squeaked, jumping at the sudden touch.

“Oh it’s you,” he rolled his eyes seeing Jay, the sound engineer laughing loudly at his reaction.

“It’s me,” he nodded seriously, before smiling again. “What a first show!”

It meant a lot that Jay was so visibly happy with it, since he was usually quite hard to please, and Neil let his arm wrap round him in return, shaking his head.

“They knew so many more lyrics than I thought they would.”

“Good songs, man, helped by some excellent technicians I thought,” he mimed tipping his non-existent hat and Neil just rolled his eyes at his cheesiness.

“Definitely integral to our success,” he nodded gravely.

“Watch it, Milan, you don’t want me fucking with your violin,” Jay wagged a finger warningly and Neil narrowed his eyes in response.

“Is someone threatening you?” he hears Olly piping up before he sees him, suddenly appearing alongside them, grinning easily at Neil, eyes flicking to Jay, though his tone is slightly uncertain.

“Just this twat,” Neil said cheerfully, dropping his hand over Jay face like an annoying sibling to interrupt the introduction he could tell Jay was about to start.

“I’m Jay,” he tried again after dislodging Neil’s hand by licking it, which was disgusting and beyond the pale. He reached out a hand to shake Olly’s, which was all very formal and Neil was quite tempted to start taking the piss again. But Olly’s just smiled shyly and politely asked what Jay did, and Neil had to tune back in once he heard his name.

“...but really I spend most of my time fucking around with Neil,” Jay linked his hands together around Neil’s waist, giving him another squeeze, eyes glittering dangerously as he noted Neil’s controlled response at not squawking out loud. Again. It’s not entirely unexpected when Jay slaps his arse a moment later.

After that, he’d got a bit distracted attempting to subtly pinch the tender bit of skin peeking out in between Jay’s waistband and where his shirt ended, so he didn’t fully log Olly’s response, but thinking over things, he remembers Olly heading back off to speak to someone else soon after.

Actually, he hadn’t really seen Olly much from then on. He’d seemed tied up in all of the private conversations with various people Neil felt rude intruding on. So he’d already been feeling slightly wrong-footed when he saw Olly with that other guy. He replays the end of the conversation with Jay that led to Olly’s departure and frowns, pauses, mid-sip of his tea.

“Are you having an epiphany?” Jack whispers dramatically. “It’s like That’s So Raven.”

Grace whacks him again, though she’s laughing, and Neil stops his maudlin recollection to point his spoon at Jack.

“We’re going to return to the fact you’re apparently a fan of the Disney Channel, but first, let’s return to the more important matter of my heartbreak.”

He ignores Jack rolling his eyes at Neil’s over-dramatic statement and quickly goes back over the weird way Olly had left the conversation.

Grace is listening intently, but Jack snorts. “Well, he thinks you’re fucking Jay obviously if that was the choice of words he used.”

Both Neil and Grace snap their heads to look at him, still chuckling away.

“Oh my god,” Grace’s eyes widen as she glances back at Neil. “So, if he has feelings too, he thought you were sleeping with other people so it was all casual, felt a bit bruised about it and tried to do the same,” she finishes.

Neil’s head is reeling – surely that’s not what happened – and there’s so much supposition here for all that to piece together, but he can’t help the fluttering feeling of hope it instils in his chest nonetheless.

“But Jay meant like fucking with me,” he points out.

Jack gives him a withering look. “If he didn’t know Jay, how the fuck was he supposed to realise? Especially if you were hanging all over each other like you usually do to be irritating wankers.”

Neil would rather run over hot coals barefoot than admit Jack might have a point.

Grace has no such qualms. “He has a point,” she nods. “In which case, the signs are good he does like you too. But the obvious thing to do is talk to him.”

Jack’s eyes light up in the way they do when either Grace has put on one of her gravity-defying tops clinging to every curve, or he’s about to get a really good meal. Neil can only assume it’s the latter unless Grace has whipped off her jumper.

He turns to eye her warily just in case – she’s stripped off in more public places than this before – but Grace is still wrapped up in her giant jumper. Sure enough, several plates of food are set before them a moment later, so Neil is thankfully gifted a moment’s respite as everyone’s hunger gets the better of them and they tuck in for a few moments of quiet.

Surprisingly, it’s Jack who breaks the silence, speaking half with his mouth full. “Seriously though, you’ll probably get laid immediately if you get started on your feelings.”

“And you’ll get things sorted out, so you’ll be able to sort out whether it’s exclusive,” Grace adds encouragingly. “So we’ll be far less likely to have one of these morose breakfasts again. Not that we mind...” she jerks slightly and Neil guesses she’s just kicked Jack under the table who looked like he was about to offer up a contrary opinion. “It’s just it’s obviously much nicer to have you happy.”

“Mmm,” Neil muses noncommittally and pops his fork back in his mouth to avoid offering further comment.

He does want to talk to Olly, but the thought of being wrong on this, already makes his hands feel clammy and his stomach clench unhappily.

“Promise you’ll talk to him sooner rather than later?” Grace pushes, using her unerring ability to read Neil’s mind for bad yet again.

“Yeah, I will at some point,” he makes eye contact briefly to reassure her, before Jack changes the subject and tries to nick some of Neil’s guacamole, which is obviously not happening.

He’s pretty sure Jack is making a conscious effort to divert the topic elsewhere and is risking getting stabbed by Neil’s fork to do so, and Neil feels a warm rush of gratitude to him, not for the first time feeling lucky to have them both as his friends. Even when they’re being wankers.

He waves his fork less viciously at Jack, allowing him to steal a scoopful triumphantly, though by the way he grins at Neil, it’s clear he’s acknowledged it as the token of gratitude it was.

***

He thinks over what Grace and Jack said during brunch, dithering over how best to play it from here. Realistically he knows he has to sit down with Olly and have a chat, but he’s still not quite sure how to start the conversation.

So the Leeds and Liverpool dates see him making an effort not to be weird and evasive around Olly, but painfully aware that he’s probably over thinking things to the extent that he’s coming off weirder. And still not broaching the topic.

They have a bit of free time after unpacking at the O2 Academy in Leeds, and Neil takes the opportunity to wander about, before taking a seat upstairs briefly to get a feel for the whole place. He’s joined after a bit by Olly, who seems to linger nearby for a moment, before sitting down next to him.

“Ready for show number two?” he asks, tucking his knees up and wrapping his arms around them.

Neil’s struck by how small he looks, again coming back to the air of fragility Olly sometimes has about him.

“Think it’ll be hard to top the opening night, but looking forward to trying anyway,” he smiles, casting a final look around and trying to imagine it filled with people, actually there to see Clean Bandit, before he focuses on Olly.

He’s watching Neil with a faraway expression on his face, though once he notes Neil’s looking back at him, he flits his gaze down then left over Neil’s shoulder and hesitantly lets it return to Neil’s face, a light flush on his cheeks. He’s so captivating up close – he is all the time as far as Neil’s concerned – but there’s something about being near enough to see the curl of his eyelashes, just how blue his eyes are, and the way his hands flit around so much when he talks.

“I’m sure it’ll be just as good,” Olly offers, turning to rest his head on his knees, smiling.

“So, did you have a good time the other night?” Neil blunders into part of the conversation he didn’t really want to be having yet (if at all).

Olly frowns almost imperceptibly – except Neil’s watching his every move carefully so it’s quite obvious to him, but it clears quickly. “Yeah, it was so fun, surprisingly good music for the whole night,” he says. “It was a shame you couldn’t stay longer, were you that knackered?”

He asks casually enough, but Neil still feels like there’s something pointed about the tone. He could just be imagining things though.

“Yeah, felt like an old man just wanting my bed,” he jokes weakly. “I was going to say bye but you seemed pretty busy, so I left you to it.”

It’s meant to be light-hearted, but it sounds clumsy to Neil’s ears and he winces internally, imagining Olly must notice too.

He flushes a little, but keeps looking at Neil steadily. “Yeah, suppose it would’ve been a bit awkward if you’d tried to interrupt, but thanks for letting me know you’d got in okay afterwards.”

He doesn’t divulge anything more about the mystery guy and if anything else had happened after that, and he doesn’t seem embarrassed to acknowledge it. Neil feels his heart sinking a bit, knowing there’s no way he’s broaching the possible misunderstanding today. He’s bottling it for another day.

“I’ve learnt from one too many bollockings from Grace at uni to always text when I’m back in, wherever I end up,” he says instead, smiling at Olly, before changing the subject to wondering if he’d be needed back soon, chalking up the conversation as a failure. He hadn’t even got back to any of the easy flirting from before, both of them chatting away happily enough, but on carefully safe topics. It all felt a bit exhausting.

***

He’s probably not doing a very good job at disguising his moping if the panicked warning glances he gets from Jack anytime Grace comes in while Neil’s playing around on his phone, flopped on the sofa morosely, are anything to go by.

Sure enough, it only takes them getting to Manchester before Grace plops herself onto his lap the afternoon of their show, and says conversationally: “I see you still haven’t spoken to Olly.”

He realises too late the lap-sitting had been a carefully plotted move to pin him to the spot, with no escape route, and he curses her sneakiness.

“I have spoken to him,” he mutters, as she flicks him on the cheek.

“Discussing the weather doesn’t count. Look, I wouldn’t do this unless I thought it might benefit you and also the rest of us, since you trotting around like a lost puppy is a sad state of affairs. Also, you’re not going to have another chance to have sex on tap while on tour, because you didn’t shotgun a band mate early enough,” she took a moment to smile at him smugly and he mock gagged at the thought of her and Jack shagging. She tapped him round the back of the head in retaliation.

“Shut up. Seriously, whenever I see us all in the same room, you seem to take turns giving each other sad little looks. Get it together will you – the sooner you do, the more time you’ll have for sex.” She gives him an encouraging thumbs up, before pecking him on the cheek and sliding off his lap.

“Also, I told Olly you wanted his advice on choice of jacket for tonight since his style is great, so he may be swinging by here in like five. Don’t say I didn’t warn you – I’m warning you now, good luck!”

His mouth drops open in horror at the ambush, but he has no time to say anything in protest as she’s already slipping out the door with a hasty wave.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, debating whether to scatter sharpish, or just suck it up and get it over with instead of torturing himself for another month.

To be honest, he decides, he probably just needs to put it out there. If it’s been misconstrued, or Olly feels differently, at least he’ll have clarified his position and won’t be left hanging around waiting and wondering. He steels himself, deciding there’s never really a good time for an awkward conversation like this, and promptly loses his nerve entirely when there’s a quiet knock on the door, followed by Olly’s head popping round.

“Hey,” he beams at Neil, looking happy to see him, which is a decent starting place. “Grace said you wanted help with a jacket or something? Apparently I’m the most stylish guy on tour,” he preens and Neil rolls his eyes, but doesn’t deny it.

“I actually wanted to talk to you?” he says it as a question, slightly tentatively, which is not really how he wanted the conversation to start.

Olly comes in and settles onto the sofa next to him, but with noticeable distance between them.

“Sure, what’s up?” he says casually, but he bites his lip briefly afterwards, and Neil’s not sure if he feels relieved or not that they’re evidently both nervous.

“Things have been a bit awkward since the other night,” he dives straight in, watching Olly look as if he’s about to reply, and ploughing on before he loses his nerve. “Or at least, I don’t think we’ve been as comfortable as we were before. A lot of it probably came from the fact that I felt pretty shit when I saw you with that guy.”

Neil feels like he needs to expand on that a bit further, but his heart’s beating so loudly in his ears, he needs to take a moment to breathe.

Olly’s first reaction seems to be a pleased smile, ducking his head briefly as if to hide it, before he frowns deeply. Neil’s heart sinks.

“We’re not together though, and it’d be a bit rich to ask me to be exclusive if you’re off sleeping with other people, especially if they’re on tour too,” he blurts out heatedly.

Neil wants to laugh he suddenly feels so light-hearted that Jack of all people might’ve solved his romantic crisis and actually been correct on this, but he doesn’t want Olly to get the wrong end of the stick – again.

“I’m not sleeping with anyone else,” he says quickly. “You’ve literally been the only person I’ve even thought about like that since we met.”

It’s nearly funny how obviously the emotions battle on Olly’s face – the desire to be helplessly pleased at the unexpected compliment set against the confusion and hesitancy over still unexplained details.

“But when I came up to you before the bar, that Jay guy was with you and he said...”

“He meant like fucking around as in taking the piss out of me and irritating me 24/7, not like actually fucking,” Neil says, trying to make it as clear as possible. The idea of sleeping with Jay was beyond comprehension to him, but evidently not to Olly, so he wants to make sure they’re definitely on the same page.

“Oh,” Olly says, biting his lip again, hand rising in front of his mouth in shock, before he closes his eyes, evidently embarrassed. “Obviously. I am such an idiot.”

Neil’s not sure if he looks close to laughing or crumpling, so he reaches a hand out to clasp Olly’s knee. “You’re not. I assumed you’d know I was basically entirely preoccupied with you and I guess, maybe we should’ve talked about where this was going? I just didn’t want to scare you off early.”

Olly’s settled on a burgeoning smile, small but pleased.

“You wouldn’t have, really. I’m sorry for immediately jumping to conclusions, I have a bit of a shit history when it comes to dating, so I tend to assume the worst until I hear otherwise. Thought getting with someone else might make the thing with you seem a bit more casual, but I just felt sad afterwards, so...” he trails off, gaze flicking away from Neil’s briefly as he laughs shortly, slightly harshly. “That was stupid.”

“So, you don’t want to see anyone else?” Neil reiterates, because if ever there’s a conversation he needs spelled out in front of him, this would be it.  
Olly leans in a little, resting a hand on top of Neil’s resting on his knee. “When you’ve got those arms? I don’t think so.”

His smile is back to the flirty one Neil has become very fond of recently, and he’s a little embarrassed at how much he’d missed it in such a short space of time.

He figures in for a penny, in for a pound. “Just so you know, I’m ready to go all in and call you my boyfriend,” he trails off as Olly moves both hands to Neil’s thighs, leaning over him, eyes intent.

“Definitely more than happy with being your boyfriend,” he murmurs, already moving to brush a surprisingly soft kiss against Neil’s lips.

“Good, I was trying to play it cool but to be honest I was going to be very miserable, not to mention sexually frustrated, if we’d been stuck in that limbo of miscommunication the rest of tour,” Neil grins, feeling lighter now. He slides a hand under Olly’s t-shirt to run it up his spine and press him closer, until he gets the message and settles in Neil’s lap.

It’s probably top three of Neil’s favourite places for Olly to be, he thinks, the other two are definitely less PG.

“I’m sure you would’ve found someone willing to help you out with the sexual frustration,” Olly nudges his nose against Neil, still maintaining eye contact which is making Neil go a bit cross-eyed since he doesn’t want to look away.

“Only wanted you though,” he says quietly, enjoying having Olly close enough to feel him shiver at that, cupping Neil’s face in his hands before kissing him thoroughly, not feeling shy about using his tongue and making it dirty very quickly.

Neil hums into the kiss, keeping one hand drawing patterns on Olly’s skin under his shirt, feeling it goosebump beneath his fingertips, while the other reaches up to rest on the nape of Olly’s neck.

They kiss for a while, Neil loses track of time, but he’s just ridiculously happy to have Olly with him. The change in his mood from yesterday is so stark he should maybe be worried one person has such an influence on it, but the butterflies in his stomach are overriding any concern at the moment.

That and the slow-burning heat he feels as they trade hot kisses, breaking only to murmur endearments, though he’s fairly content to leave it at kissing for the moment. He’s also aware they don’t have much longer alone, so it’ll only end in more sexual frustration if they get started now, without time to finish until later.

He kisses along Olly’s jaw line, before pausing to ask: “Are you free after the show?”

“No,” Olly says sadly, and Neil pulls back to watch his reaction, hoping his sharp disappointment doesn’t show too clearly on his face. “I’m gonna be too busy having sex with my boyfriend.”

“You’re such a dick,” Neil laughs at the smug look Olly’s wearing, unable to stop a laugh escaping at Neil’s expression.

He grabs Olly’s chin in a light grip between his thumb and forefinger, letting his thumb brush along Olly’s bottom lip, enjoying the shaky breath he lets out as a result.

“You better behave or you might not be having any sex at all with your boyfriend today,” he says, dropping a teasing kiss onto Olly’s parted lips.

“Could maybe look into other options,” Olly jokes, eyes already crinkling up as Neil’s face goes stony immediately.

“Not funny and too soon,” he says, unable to keep the grumpiness out of his voice, though Olly’s stroking his cheeks softly and smiling down at him, with that lovely intimate smile he’s been gifting Neil with this afternoon.

“Sorry, I’ll make it up to you later,” he promises, eyes heavy-lidded as he closes the gap to kiss Neil again.

They get another ten minutes or so of blissfully undisturbed kissing, and if Neil’s being totally honest, quite a bit of nuzzling on his part, though Olly doesn’t seem to mind. He finally digs out his phone to check the time, sighing reluctantly.

“I’m gonna have to head back soon, or they’ll send someone to come find me,” Neil says, still trailing his fingers along the back of Olly’s neck. “And with my luck it’ll be Jack.”

Olly pouts at him in a very appealing way, so that ends up in another distracting kiss, before Olly separates them the second time, grinning as Neil leans towards him as he sits back, chasing his lips.

Olly rests a hand on his chest, holding him back gently. “You’ve got to go, I don’t want to get blamed for distracting you.”

“They’ll blame you for distracting me anyway,” Neil shrugs, but lets Olly slip off his lap, with only a brief attempt to tug him back by the shirt, licking his lips in a suggestive and hopefully enticing way.

Olly laughs, which is not what he was hoping for, but grabs Neil by the hand to pull him up. “You’re one to talk about distracting. Stop that face or we’ll never get out of here.”  
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he mutters, tangling their fingers together as they head for the door.

Olly smiles, eyes shining as he darts in to give Neil a sweet kiss on the cheek before they leave.

“I’m glad you started that conversation, because I never would’ve done and I would have just added you to the list of hot guys that didn’t work out for various reasons.”

Neil snorts. “I’ll take that as a compliment, I think.”

“I’ll come find you later, yeah?”

“Not if I find you first,” Neil raises his eyebrows and Olly smiles, stepping away but holding onto Neil’s hand until the last possible moment, catching one finger around Neil’s.

By the time they finally head off in different directions, Neil’s definitely late, but he feels better than he has in ages – the floaty confirmation that Olly’s actually his boyfriend still fluttering around his mind like a distant wish rather than a reality.

It might take a bit for that to sink in, he thinks.

***

The tour from then flies by in a blur of awesome adrenaline-filled shows, grinning faces of fans singing along, and Olly. Now they’ve sorted the misunderstanding that seems hilarious and ridiculously dramatic from both of their perspectives, it’s near honeymoon-like.

The only issue is Neil keeps getting distracted anytime he catches the sight of curls out of the corner of his eye. He seems attuned to whenever Olly’s in a room. It’s getting a bit of a running joke among the band and crew alike that if Neil gets a slightly glazed look in his eyes, Olly’s either around or will be appearing imminently.

It’s not really his fault though, Neil reasons, or tries to reason to himself, but then Olly pops in mid-sound check ahead of one show about half-way through the tour, neckline of his t-shirt riding low, showing off the wings of his collarbone. And any useful thought Neil might be having is shot to fuck right then.

“Grace said any mistake you make is probably my fault,” Olly announces after they’ve wrapped up, moving away from the back of the room, where he’d been leaning against the wall. He grins up at Neil as if that’s something to be proud of.

Neil wraps his hand around Olly’s slight wrist and tugs him closer. “Why are you grinning at me like that’s a good achievement? You should feel bad.”

In a flash, Olly’s expression goes from light and smiley to dangerous, eyes half-lidded with filthy promise. Neil swallows.

“Because it means my personal mission to have you constantly thinking about me or my cock is paying off,” he says, hands running up Neil’s chest proprietarily.

“It’s going to be a problem if that’s the main thing occupying my thoughts constantly,” he points out, already concerned that he spends slightly too much time thinking about Olly. “Daily tasks are going to be impossible if all I’m thinking about is your cock.”

“Or me,” Olly adds helpfully, flicking his gaze down to Neil’s lips, slow and deliberate.

“Yes, or you. Do you think it’s going to get worse or better when tour’s over?” Neil ponders out loud, unsure if he wants it to get worse or better.

He sweeps a thumb under Olly’s eye tenderly, tracing the delicate skin there. “And are you sure you want me coming back to yours later by the way? You look knackered.”

Olly pulls a face. “It could go either way. You might pine for my presence constantly, leading to a lot of wanking, or you might be less distracted without me in your face constantly. And yes, I want you to come back with me, obviously. You’ve forgotten your primary job is to cuddle me.”

Neil smiles at him once he settles, hands no longer flitting around, spiel finished. He’d never really thought much of the word besotted until now, but it’s probably the perfect word to describe how he feels about Olly, totally consumed by him but in the best possible way.

“I am slightly worried as to whether I’m ever going to return to normality and not have this one-track mind,” he says, hands pausing from their stroking to cup Olly’s face between them instead. “Also more than happy to fulfil cuddling duties tonight.”

“I think you’ve probably always had a one-track mind, maybe I’ve just escalated it,” Olly speculates, blatantly enjoying the furrowed look of offense on Neil’s face.

“Heyyy.” Neil’s going to dive into a proper argument defending himself, but Olly’s lips are curling into one of his terrible dirty smirks, so he ends up getting tangled up in a kiss instead, Olly’s mouth hot, soft and addictive against his.

For someone who is quite clearly running on about two per cent energy, Olly’s kissing like he could go on for hours. And from firsthand experience, Neil suspects he quite possibly could.

But he’s mindful they’ve got a show tonight, so he makes himself slow down after a moment, wrapping Olly up in a hug to keep him close.

“See, not too much of a one-track mind,” Olly’s voice is muffled against Neil’s chest.

Neil snorts. “It is though, ‘cause I’m still thinking about you.”

“Good,” he hears quietly, but distinctly smugly.

He rolls his eyes even though Olly can’t see.

***

For all he likes the sex, and he really likes the sex with Olly, the snatched hours they get of downtime are probably his favourite bits of the day. Like after tonight’s show, when Olly’s clearly super tired, they snuggle up on the sofa, legs intertwined, Olly’s hand tracing the zip of Neil’s hoodie unconsciously. They get Netflix on, talking quietly in the dark of the room, lit only by the computer screen, and Neil’s struck by how understatedly perfect these moments are.

It’s the hushed conversations he savours the most – finding out more about Olly and his past, every touch between them more intense with only each other to concentrate on – the heightened feeling when their hands brush, Olly’s soft hair against his neck, his warm breath ghosting across Neil’s cheek when he leans up to whisper something naughty in his ear.

He thinks Olly sometimes feel more emboldened at night – either that or tired enough that he feels less shackled about sharing. It’s then Neil gets glimpses into his past relationships and flings – and begins to piece together a pattern of Olly being underappreciated and overlooked all too often.

Sometimes without thinking he’ll tighten his grip on Olly when he hears something that particularly jars with him, and Olly will pause, and ask if he’s okay. That quiet comment makes emotions swirl heavy in his chest – Olly’s possibly the sweetest person he’s ever met, gentle and kind to everyone, even though he’s clearly had enough people treat him like shit to have made him jaded along the way.

“You know you’re amazing right?” he says quietly instead of answering the question, hand rucking up Olly’s jumper slightly to rest on the warm skin of his stomach. “Like your exes were genuinely wankers, and I’m not just saying that because they let you go in the first place.”

Olly doesn’t say anything for a moment, then turns his head and his eyes look suspiciously glassy in the muted light from the computer screen. “I think I might have got really lucky with you,” he replies, voice hesitant as if he’s sharing a secret, letting his fingers interlace with Neil’s.

“Gonna have to work on turning that ‘might have’ into a ‘definitely’,” Neil teases, trapping Olly’s foot between his and turning more onto his side so he can watch Olly’s reaction better.

“Oh good, don’t want you getting complacent,” Olly agrees, smiling around a yawn. “I don’t even know what film we’re watching,” he admits, still staring at Neil.

“Me neither,” Neil shrugs, not giving a fuck. “Do you want to move to your room?”

Olly lets a quiet disgruntled “hmph” slip out, and shakes his head, pressing even closer to Neil, eyes drifting shut.

“Suppose it is pretty comfy here,” Neil concedes. There could be worse places to fall asleep, and in worse states, that’s for sure. After all, Neil has fallen asleep in a neighbour’s bush after a particularly heavy night, half-clothed and still worse for wear the next morning when poor Mrs Anscombe stumbled upon him and shrieked – initially thinking the pair of legs sticking out of her rose bush belonged to a dead body.

He didn’t think she’d been particularly mollified when it turned out it was just Neil after a night out, despite his attempts to placate her with a winning smile and later, a bunch of flowers he’d picked up from the high street’s florist. It didn’t really make up for the damage done to her roses and possibly her heart, but he’d genuinely felt shamefaced about the whole ordeal, though it’s one of Jack’s favourite tales to regale new people with at social gatherings. Jack’s nice like that.

He’s learnt a lot since then, he likes to think, he’s certainly matured and developed as a person. Aside from the fact he has, for the most part, tended to make sure he’s stayed clear of public nudity after the rose bush incident, proof now is in the fact he and Olly had been organised enough to get into tracksuit bottoms and jumpers, brushing their teeth before settling down for the film. If that’s not the behaviour of a sensible adult, Neil would very much like to know what is.

So he’s not too fussed about staying on the sofa – he’ll inevitably wake up boiling as Olly has a habit of turning into an octopus in his sleep (not that he’s much better awake), and quite possibly with a crick in his neck. But at the moment, it’s pretty much his ideal place to be, so it doesn’t take long for him to drift off, Olly snuffling a little against his chest, one hand still curled in Neil’s hoodie.

***

And that’s how the tail-end of the tour draws in too – Neil and Olly spending the majority of the flashes of free time they get together, whether it’s grabbing room service on one of the odd nights they get a hotel room or a morning wandering around town.

Neil hasn’t been wanting to think about what’ll happen when tour’s finished, whether they’ll find it difficult to coordinate schedules as much and end up like two passing ships in the night more often than not. He’s still caught up in the promising fledgling stages of a blossoming new relationship, captivated by Olly’s laugh, turned on by the roll of his hips whether performing on stage or in the bedroom, and intrigued and impressed by his seemingly unending knowledge of pop culture.

From what he can tell, Olly’s in a similar space – which is a relief after their mishap earlier on tour. His face visibly lights up when he spots Neil lurking side stage when Years & Years sound check, starts turning to the right more to pull faces at him, and when Neil springs up behind him as soon as Clean Bandit finishes up a show, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, Olly sinks into him immediately without even having to glance up to know it’s Neil.

That familiarity in particular gives him a warm glow deep in his chest – physical intimacy has been easy with them from the start, but he’s surprised at how they seem to have opened up to each other so quickly, when he can tell they’ve both been hesitant to move that fast after past relationships which have left their marks.

And so the tour rolls by, dates ticked off faster than he can blink, until they’re back in Brixton for the penultimate show and it’s then he begins to feel painfully aware of the imminent end of what has been a whirlwind month and a bit.

He’s tried to be upbeat as Olly is equally as ridiculous as he is in terms of soppy texts and heated glances whenever they’re in a room together, but he’s still worried about the element of unpredictability about the future and not knowing quite what’ll happen. He likes Olly too much to think he’d feel anything other than utterly devastated at the possibility of something great cut off before it had the time to bloom.

Olly stays at his the night before their last date, and they have more time than usual so he spreads Olly out on the bed, takes his time in licking him open until he’s a writhing, quivering sprawl of limbs on the sheets. Neil jerks himself off to the drawn-out moans muffled slightly by where Olly’s pillowing his head on an arm, Neil spreading a hand across the dip of his spine, skin hot to the touch. After Olly comes, he turns over shakily, eyes dazed and cheeks flushed, falling back onto Neil’s pillow.

Neil stretches out alongside him, traces a hand along the fuzz of hair trailing down from his stomach, then says, voice smaller than intended: “Kind of wish tour could go on for another month.”

“Or forever,” Olly returns, just as quietly, smiling at Neil, but a melancholic air suddenly encroaching on them, as if the mood had shifted by mutual agreement.

“It’s just so easy at the moment,” he adds, and it feels like a confession, as if he’s worried about being able to maintain what is, however they look at it, a delicate relationship in its early stages.

“It’ll actually probably be more like a normal relationship when we’re not actually forced together constantly,” Olly grins, laying his hand over Neil’s on his stomach.

“I’m still going to be around you constantly,” Neil grumbles, but he’s smiling back, nerves quietened a little.

“Seriously though. It’ll be fun – think about all the unexplored possibilities,” Olly’s smile turns into a smirk. “I’m expecting some good phone sex.”

Neil brightens at this prospect – apparently visibly since Olly snorts at him. “Oh my god, you’re so easy.”

“Only for you,” Neil frowns, stretching himself over Olly, fingers tickling slightly along his sides, just to see him squirm.

“Does this mean you’re now reassured about our relationship’s future based on the potential phone sex?”

“Yes, totally convinced, now shut up,” he murmurs, kissing Olly quiet, but still feeling the vibrations of a few giggles tailing off.

***

There’s a momentary come down after tour, everyone trying to adjust from the dizzying highs of performing most nights with crowds of excited fans, to disconcertingly quiet flats. But once it passes, days blend into weeks quite quickly for Neil and it’s not until Christmas has come and gone, the New Year winding in and then passing in a deceptively understated way, that Neil realises very little has changed in terms of his and Olly’s dynamic.

In fact, they’re still ridiculously handsy at all times, still find it hard to stand next to each other without touching in some way, whether it’s Olly toying with the zip on Neil’s jacket or Neil tucking a hand into Olly back pocket.

They still enjoy the domestic moments of getting a takeaway and tucking up under a blanket on the sofa, still enjoy going clubbing in a big group, a buzzing mesh of their friends. It’s just another occasion they can be entangled together – Neil with a hand just dipping underneath Olly’s waistband, Olly pressed up against his front, one long line as he grinds on Neil, throwing a coy look over his shoulder. They still can’t always keep it in their pants until they get home – when out clubbing, they might duck out to an alleyway, tucked around the corner from the smokers, exchanging quick handjobs, mouths panting against one another, puffs of breath visible in the cold January air.

Neil had even nearly convinced Olly to let Neil get him off in Hyde Park one night in the beginning of December, when Winter Wonderland was in full swing.

They’d done all the romantic essentials – the fairground rides and a few circuits of the ice rink, and then warmed their cold hands on wonderfully hot mulled wine from the Yuletide Market, before Neil had seen enough of Olly’s pink tongue darting out to lick sticky candyfloss off of his fingers and tugged him off into the dark of the trees away from the crowds.

Olly had gone easily, smiling wickedly as Neil pressed him against a tree and leant in to lick the sugary sweetness from his mouth. He’d got a hand over Olly’s dick, feeling the heat of him through his tracksuit bottoms, and was just drawing out a couple of breathy whines and a punctuated, “fuck, Neil,” before the abrupt loudness of laughter coming from jarringly close by, made Olly freeze, eyes widening comically before he ducked out and away from Neil, attempting to stand casually by the tree – the effect slightly ruined by his tented tracksuit bottoms.

A group of teenagers, seemingly on their way back to the tube, passed by a few seconds later, chatting and laughing amongst themselves, not even glancing their way. Unfortunately, that had been enough to disrupt the mood for Olly.

“As much as I find you fucking irresistible, I am not going to risk my cock getting frostbite in this weather. C’mon you, take me home,” he’d said, all fluttering eyelashes and bitten bottom lip, and Neil couldn’t find it in him to pretend to be remotely sulky at the fun being cut short prematurely. Especially since they’d grabbed a cab back instead of the tube, desperate to get home as quickly as they could.

So, it had been seamless, the transition from hooking up on tour – as boyfriends, but wrapped up in the floaty bubble of spending nearly all their time together without having to try, to dating, properly dating.

Their schedules don’t always match up, but it makes the time they do spend together all the more intense, both focused on drinking in every moment.

***

They’ve been apart for about a week when he calls Olly, who’s in Manchester for a show while Neil’s in America, time difference carefully jotted down before he flew.

“Hey,” Olly’s voice is low and pleased when he picks up on the second ring, and it sets Neil’s stomach fluttering just hearing him.

“Hi baby, how’s Manchester?” Neil can tell his voice has gone soft, just at hearing Olly – feeling much closer than the miles apart would have it.

“Good, we’re so busy all the time so it’s a bit hectic, but yeah, good. Be better if you were here though, obviously.”

“Mmm same, we’ve got a few hotel rooms, but I feel weird having one to myself so I’m going to go and pester Grace in a bit,” he fiddles with a corner of the huge duvet in the room, debating whether to get under the covers even though it’s only 5pm – jetlag and the strong air conditioning combining to make him shivery.

“Am I going to be getting a picture of you in the bath later?” Olly asks, and Neil can tell he’s smiling.

“Most probably,” he hedges. “Though I can’t promise any visible nudity.”

Olly laughs. “Shame. That’s okay though, using my imagination is fun too.”

“No, no, this is meant to be a checking in conversation, not phone sex,” Neil suddenly remembers, annoyed at his one-track mind.

“Could be both,” Olly says all syrupy teasing.

“I specifically set this aside as a catch up call, Olly, we are not going to be that couple who spend more time fucking than talking.”

He lacks conviction about halfway through, since Olly’s fucking cackling down the line at him.

“You literally would shag anywhere, Neil. If one of us is bringing this relationship down because of too much sex, it will be you,” he points out unhelpfully. “And who the fuck ever heard of a relationship falling apart because of too much good sex?”

Neil doesn’t dignify that with more of an answer than a grumpy “hmph” as he’s hopped across to dig through his suitcase, looking for a jumper.

“Anyway, in more mundane news, I can’t find my red Adidas jumper,” he deflects, though not very successfully he’ll admit.

Except Olly’s gone very quiet all of a sudden.

“Olls?”

“I... may have potentially borrowed it just for while we’re apart,” Olly volunteers eventually, sounding cagey.

“Oh,” Neil says, struck by how touched he is by such a small gesture.

“Just thought since it’s the first time we’re not going to see each other for a couple of weeks, it’d be nice to have,” Olly continues, still a tiny bit unsure.

“Could’ve at least done a swap so I’d have a replacement,” Neil retorts, but he’s grinning as he pulls out a grey jumper instead, carrying out a complicated manoeuvre to put it on, just so he doesn’t have to put the phone down for a second.

“I did,” Olly sounds more confident now, and proud of himself for thinking ahead.

“Really?” Neil’s trying to keep a handle on sounding excited, in case Olly’s just messing around.

“Yeah, before you flew, I swapped it out for a navy one of mine I think, the one with the...”

“White stripe around the front? I can see it,” he smiles, pulling it out where it’s folded carefully beneath another top. He debates taking off the one he’s just spent so much effort struggling to get on, but settles for sitting with it on the bed instead. “Is it going to be weird if I smell it?”

“Probably weirder if you don’t,” Olly offers up, and Neil can hear the smile in his voice again, feels incredibly happy he’s found someone equally as sentimental as him.

“I picked up some coasters for you today by the way. You know you were saying you were a bit worried about wrecking the coffee table since it’s shared with your sister? Just saw them and thought they’d be useful,” Olly carries on chattering away and Neil’s definitely in love.

“Have I told you I love you yet?” he wonders aloud.

Olly stop mid-sentence from where he’d started talking about Neil’s shitty curtains in the living room and was he really serious about replacing them, because his friend made some really cool stuff like drapes and curtains and sold them at Camden Market and could probably get them a great deal...

“Neil.”

“Whoops,” he says, feeling totally unapologetic and maybe a little smug at catching Olly off guard.

“Are you seriously telling me that for the first time when I can’t even see your face or touch you?” Olly’s disgruntled, borderline sounding like a spoilt child, and Neil just wants him more than he’s ever wanted anyone.

“Yes, sorry baby.”

“You better be. When I get back I’m expecting the works, Milan. Candles, flowers, dinner and sex, lots of sex.”

“I think you’re missing something,” Neil points out, feeling doubly pleased he’s already arranged for flowers to arrive at Olly’s flat when he’s back from Manchester to mark their three month anniversary.

“Chocolate? I mean you can if you want, but I didn’t want to be too demanding,” Olly muses and Neil can’t stop smiling even though he’s being deliberately obtuse.  
“Fuck off.”

“Oh, you mean the ‘I love you’ thing. Well, I suppose I do too,” he says casually as anything, but Neil can hear the slight edge to his voice as if he’s hyped up finally saying it out loud.

“Wow, that was even worse than my attempt. Think we can do a take two when we’re both back in London.”

“Yeah, I’m going to have go in a minute. Promised Emre I’d go down to the bar with him and provide moral support while he approaches any female within a six mile radius in the hope of getting laid.” Olly sounds an interesting combination of resigned and amused, as if he’s been party to this too many times before, which Neil suspects is probably the case.

“Okay, I’ll text you my naked bath picture later to keep your morale up.”

Olly snorts. “Actually can’t wait.”

“I love you,” Neil says, more softly this time.

“Love you too,” Olly’s response is quietly sincere and possibly the best thing Neil’s heard.

When they’ve hung up, he decides Grace owes him one from when he took about 40 different pictures on her phone to show her how a pair of jeans looked from all angles (answer: excellent from all of them, obviously), and now is the time to crash her room and use her bath.

To her credit, she just rolls her eyes and shakes her head before holding her hand out for Neil’s phone on arrival, and he grins triumphantly. She’s not all bad.

***

In reality, Neil probably knew from October Olly could be someone special, and it’s not in his nature to let things like that and people like him just drift away. Even so, though he doesn’t say it out loud too often, he’s beyond grateful that Grace and Jack sat him down to shake some sense into him during the early road bump on tour.

He probably would have got round to talking to Olly eventually, but by that point, who knows where Olly might’ve moved onto – or who.

As it stands, they know they both got emotionally invested very early on, and they both know that can be a dangerous game to play in relationships. Somewhat miraculously, they seem to have been on the same page every step of the way so far though.

Except on the choice of curtains for Neil’s flat. When Olly had clung to a dramatic velvet swath of mouldy-looking material, with a hopeful expression on his face, Neil had just shook his head slowly at him, looking aghast. “This is going to be a problem when we move in together,” he’d said off the cuff, horrified that someone who always looked good when it came to clothes, could have such curious – stroke fucking horrendous – taste when it came to curtains.

“When we move in together, huh?” Olly had paused, halfway through swirling the dingy-looking velvet around him like a cape, to grin mischievously at Neil.

In what was not one of his finest moments, Neil had gone very flustered for a moment, before he figured being painfully honest hadn’t done him wrong so far in his relationship with Olly.

“Hopefully, at some stage in the future,” he volunteered, before amending his comment on seeing Olly looking like bloody E.T. swaddled up in the velvet. “Possibly distant, distant future on second thoughts.”

Olly laughed loudly then, head thrown back.

“No taking it back now, you’re stuck with me,” he’d shuffled closer to Neil and it was definitely an indication of just how gone Neil was for Olly – still is – that his heartbeat sped up just at the prospect of Olly coming closer – even looking like he did right then.

“And your terrible taste in curtains,” Neil had sighed sadly, but let his arms come round Olly, hands interlinked at the small of his back.

“My fucking fantastic taste in curtains,” Olly corrected smugly.

Neil had figured if that was the biggest difference in opinion they were going to have, they’d be more than alright.

***

And six months down the line, he’s thinking ‘more than alright’ was about as a big an understatement as there could be. In all that time he’d spent “researching” (shut up, Grace) potential support acts before tour kicked off, Neil hadn’t genuinely given much thought to what might come from it – let alone a serious relationship materialising afterwards.

Even so, he might wait a couple more months before divulging to Olly just how extensively he scouted Years & Years before the tour. He wouldn’t want to be called stalkery after all.


End file.
